


The Tale of Thomas McGregor

by MoonwalkingCrab



Category: Peter Rabbit (2018), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Dry Humping, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Other, Past Thomas/OMC, Rimming, Sex Toys, Stuffed Toys, kylux adjacent, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/pseuds/MoonwalkingCrab
Summary: Thomas is stressed, he doesn't like that; it throws off his routine. Luckily, he also has a routine specifically to combat stress.It involves his toys.





	1. Methods of Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeusus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeusus/gifts).



> I couldn't get [this](http://jeusus.tumblr.com/post/171608621418/im-sorry-im-sorry-i-asked-yesterday-who-thomas) image out of my head. Many thanks to jeusus for the wonderful, terrible, inspiration <3

Stress.

Stress was Thomas McGregor’s prime nemesis, aside from Nigel Bannerman, who had somehow managed to acquire another week’s holiday despite doing zero work and collapsing in the toilets after a two-and-a-half-hour “business lunch” at Nandos. It was abhorrent. It was messy. It was far too disorganised.

Everything Thomas did was organised—minutely, perfectly planned—from his morning checklist to his nightly routine. It allowed for very few aberrations—unless needed.

Today, it was needed.

Hands dropping immediately to his tie the instant the door clicked closed, Thomas sighed. He slipped his eyes shut, breathing deep and letting his shoulders relax. He slipped off his jacket, hanging it up and trying to resist the urge to immediately brush it down with a lint roller. Tonight, that could wait. 

He left his shoes at the door, wriggling his socked toes against the hard wood of the floor, letting the coldness seep through him and douse the tight ball of anger and frustration that seemed so often present in the pit of his gut. 

Stretching his arms out, Thomas could hear the crackle in his spine, the result of too much time spent crouched over the _Wind in the Willows_ display trying to get Mr Mole’s whiskers _just_ right. He brushed his fingers through his hair, mussing it slightly, a few strands falling free from the grip of hair product to settle gently on his forehead. 

The flat was quiet, the noise of the street barely audible. The only sound was the faint susurrus of voices on next door’s television. Thomas smiled to himself and headed for his bedroom, fingers working the buttons of his shirt as he did. He was going to relax tonight, he’d be sure of it.

The faint golden light of the setting sun slivered across Thomas’ bed, bathing it in an inviting glow. He sat on the edge of the mattress, passing his hand over the warm patch before removing his socks and folding them neatly, putting them in the laundry basket. His shirt and trousers followed, leaving Thomas in his underwear, skin prickling slightly in the still bedroom air.

Thomas breathed deep and turned to his closet, a soft smile playing about his lips. He opened to door and reached inside, pulling out exactly what he needed.

“Hello, Arthur,” Thomas said, wrapping his arms around a mass of fluff. “I've missed you.”

Arthur’s smile was as fixed and patient as ever, even as Thomas manhandled him onto the bed, murmuring as he did.

“It has been a rough week, Arthur.” Thomas pressed his face into the bear’s soft stomach. “It will be worth it when I get that promotion, though.” 

The teddy bear was almost the same height as Thomas himself, the green fabric of its uniform velvet soft on Thomas’ bare skin as he wrapped himself around it, hugging close.

Arthur had been a gift, a present from Thomas’ ex of the same name before everything went south.

 _“There now, darling, you can stop whining about being lonely while I'm away on business, since you_ refuse _to come with me.”_

_“Arthur, you know I'd love to, but my work...the promotion. My job is just as important as yours.”_

_“Of course it is, darling. Now you're getting agitated, why not give him a cuddle? I'm sure you'll feel a lot better.”_

Thomas breathed deep, inhaling the soft, slightly dusty scent. Arthur's fur tickled gently at his cheek as he rolled atop the bear, eyes slipping closed as he nuzzled into his chest.

This was good. This was calm.

Thomas could feel the tension starting to leave him, soothed away by the velvet caress of fur on his bare skin. He squeezed tight, letting out a little hum of contentment and wriggling his toes as he curled around the soft bulk. Arthur was warm, and the last rays of sunlight glinted off golden buttons: the mark of any model Harrods employee.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Thomas murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I really have been working a tad too hard lately.” He twisted his fingers into the perfect crease of Arthur’s shirt, shifting to feel a soft pressure between his legs.

Thomas breathed out a sigh, circling his hips, a slow warmth spreading through him at the tickle of fur on his inner thighs.

 _Oh_ , it was one of _those_ nights.

Kissing at Arthur’s nose once more, Thomas stretched out, breath catching as the sensitive skin of his nipples scraped across fabric, senses heightening with every shift of his body. He sighed out, a low groan slipping from his lips, unnaturally loud in the still air.

Thomas rocked forwards, squeezing his thighs together. It had been a long while since he had indulged himself like this; a few furtive touches in the shower was all he usually had time for.

Sitting up on his knees, Thomas spread his legs, shifting so that the pillowy bulk of Arthur lay directly beneath the growing bulge in his briefs. He caught his lower lip in his teeth, hissing in a breath as he slid his hand down, palming his hardening cock, hot beneath the fabric. He trailed his fingers lower, stroking a line down to his balls and slowly back up the length of his cock, sliding his hand beneath his waistband to squeeze at the head. Another soft moan slipped from Thomas’ mouth as he gave himself a few small strokes, foreskin gliding over the head of his cock. He pulled his hand back, not wanting things to be over too soon. It would be all too easy to just get himself off there and then, but no, he was going to take his time. 

Brushing his hands over his thighs, Thomas leaned forwards once more, burying his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck as he slowly rocked his hips. Warmth pooled in his belly, spreading through him with every minute movement. His breath was starting to speed, heating the soft fur beneath his lips. 

Oh, he really did need this. 

He gave a few shallow thrusts, his arousal a pleasant warmth that washed over him as he moved, a gentle tide. After a few more minutes of gentle humping, Thomas frowned slightly. The friction just wasn't quite enough for him. 

“Just a moment, Arthur,” he said, sliding off the bed and onto his feet to head for his bedside drawer. If he was going to indulge himself then he might as well do it properly. 

Thomas’ toy knowledge encompassed all definitions of the word, and although his collection was not extensive, his bedside drawer contained everything he could possibly need. He cast a discerning eye over a vibrator or two before shaking his head; he didn't need the stimulation, he just wanted to be filled. His cock twitched at the thought, a small patch of dampness darkening the front of his briefs. Hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband, Thomas slid his underwear off, leaving his cock bobbing in the air as he quickly selected a thick plug and his favourite lube. 

Kneeling on his bed next to Arthur, Thomas quickly slicked his fingers, the faint scent of Earl Grey rising in the air. He breathed deep, groaning softly as he circled his hole, massaging the rim before sliding a finger inside. Thomas paused for a moment, trying to conjure the image of someone other than Arthur doing this to him. It did him no good masturbating to thoughts of his ex. 

_”Yes, darling, I'm the only one for you, aren't I?”_

Thomas groaned once more, this time cringing at the imagined words and hating how they made his cock twitch. He shoved another finger inside, hoping to shut his brain up with the sensation. Spreading his knees wide, he pumped his fingers in and out a few times, catching his prostate and hissing in a breath.

“Oh yes, there we go.” Thomas caught his lower lip in his teeth, curling his fingers once, twice more before pulling them out and reaching for his plug.

It was thick black silicone had graduated ridges that led towards the base, a pleasant weight that yielded only slightly as Thomas squeezed it in his palm. He dribbled some more lube, smoothing it over the surface before slipping his eyes closed and slowly easing the plug into himself.

With each ridge, Thomas could feel his hole stretching further and he held his breath, only letting it go when the flared base touched his rim. He wiped off his hands and grabbed the tissue box from the bedside table, shuffling back down the bed to straddle Arthur once more.

“There,” Thomas whispered, hugging close to Arthur’s chest and pressing his lips to the soft fur. “We’re all set.” He gave an experimental clench, feeling his cock twitch as an electric jolt of pleasure shot through him. He dragged it over the fabric of Arthur’s uniform, whimpering at the contrast of velvet softness on his cock and the solid, steady pressure inside him.

“ _Oh_ ,” Thomas sighed, rocking his hips. “Oh my, that’s good. Just like that.”

_“I do wish you wouldn’t moan so, darling. You sound like quite the whore.”_

_“Arthur, dear, I’m enjoying myself, surely that’s a good thing? Besides, the next door flat is empty; no one is going to hear.”_

_A sigh and a roll of eyes. “If you really must.”_

Clenching in time with each thrust, Thomas let a moan slip from his lips, louder this time, rebelling against his memories. 

It was freeing, almost, letting himself go like this, and his voice only grew louder with every roll of his hips.

“Yes, that's right, just like that.” Thomas arched his back, thrusting in long, smooth strokes, clenching tight on the plug with every push forwards. Heat was rising on his skin, a steady sheen of sweat misting over his body, beading on his forehead as his sighs turned to breathless pants, followed by full-blown moans. 

“Come on, yes, give it to me.”

Eyes closed and fingers clenched tight in soft fur, Thomas threw his head back, his usual decorum all but abandoned. It didn't matter, no one would see this. He was allowed to indulge himself every once in a while. 

His hips jerked in a staccato beat and he could feel his peak rising, coiling through him, ready to burst. 

“Yes. More. Oh, Arthur.” Thomas bit his lip, scrambling for the tissue box, not wanting to stain the pristine green uniform beneath him. He clenched, wrapping his fingers about his cock and pumping in time with each jolt of the plug against his prostate. His moans had lost all coherence, the sound bouncing off the walls of the small bedroom as he worked himself closer and closer to the edge. 

Thomas could feel his blood racing through him, pleasure cresting as his orgasm approached. He thrust hard, fingers gripping tight in Arthur’s fur, finally tipping over the edge. His breath stuttered as he came, body shuddering, cock spurting into a hastily grabbed handful of tissues. 

With a shudder, Thomas let himself slump forwards, nuzzling into Arthur. He closed his eyes, breathing deep and kissing the bear’s smiling face. “Thank you, Arthur,” he whispered, quickly wiping himself and tossing the tissues to one side. He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck, snuggling in close as the last aftershocks shivered through him.

Lying there, Thomas could feel his breathing slowly returning to normal, and he hummed in contentment, curling his toes and squeezing Arthur tight. He shifted slightly and winced, reaching back to ease the plug out. 

_“Fuck.”_ Thomas whimpered with each ridge of the plug that passed the rim of his hole. His spent cock gave a twitch of interest, which he ignored completely. His cravings had been satisfied; he could focus once more. He cuddled Arthur for a few minutes more before his mind, inevitably, turned to cleanup. 

The next morning Thomas awoke—ten minutes before his alarm, he noted with a smile— feeling rested and relaxed, ready for another day making himself invaluable to the Harrods team. He took Arthur from the bed and returned him to his spot in the cupboard, kissing him on the nose as he did so. “Until next time,” Thomas said closing the door and reaching for his uniform. 

As he left his flat, Thomas smiled to himself. It was going to be a good day, he could feel it. His keys clicked in the lock and he turned on his heel, immediately colliding with someone, who swore loudly. 

“Ah, fuck. Sorry, didn't see you there.” 

The deep voice—American accent, Thomas recognised—came from behind an armful of shopping bags, a mass of dark hair all Thomas could see of its owner. 

“That's quite all right,” Thomas said, irritation creeping up his spine. His coat was creased now and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

The bags were unceremoniously dropped to the floor at his feet and Thomas glanced up, taking in the man who had so carelessly bumped into him. He was tall, taller than Thomas himself, and much broader, the lines of his pectorals clearly visible through a t-shirt that was far too thin for winter in London. 

“Great first impression, huh?” The man smiled, rubbing his hand over the patch of hair on his chin. “I'm Phillip, moved in last week.” He jerked his head towards the next flat. “I'm just next door.” 

“Oh yes,” Thomas said, offering his hand. “Thomas McGregor.” He pursed his lips when Phillip made no move to shake it, drawing his hand back with a small cough. 

Phillip was staring at him, amusement written all over his face and, despite his rudeness, Thomas found himself admiring his features. His lips in particular were wide and full, curving up in an expression that could almost be called a smirk. 

“No need to be so formal,” Phillip said. “I feel like I know you pretty well already”—he paused, teeth scraping across his lower lip in a way that was far too distracting—“and Arthur, of course.” 

Cold shot through Thomas and he felt his eyes go wide, panic blooming in his chest. “A-Arthur?” 

“Yeah,” Phillip said with a shrug. “I sorta overheard you both last night.” To Thomas’ horror, he winked. “Don't worry, what a dude and his boyfriend get up to is no business of mine. I just turned the TV up.” 

“I—” Thomas swallowed, feeling blood rise to his cheeks. “I didn't realise. I'm so sorry.”

“Why?” Phillip said, wetting his lips as he looked Thomas up and down. “It sounded like a good time.” 

Thomas spluttered, caught somewhere between embarrassment and indignation. He didn't need this. He couldn't believe the nerve of the man. Of course he was brash, though; he was American. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, focusing on his shoes. Phillip was still talking.

“So, yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll tell Arthur the same thing if I run into him.” 

Thomas shook his head. “Oh, that won’t happen.”

“Odd work schedule?” Phillip tilted his head and Thomas blinked, Phillip seemed genuinely interested. It was odd, people never usually listened to him, even when he was telling them something really important; the correct way to assemble a thousand piece scale model of the Coliseum, for example. It really threw him, even more so than the questioning about his non-existent boyfriend.

"Ah, you see…he's not...I mean, the thing is...” Thomas paused; he wasn't going to admit Arthur was a teddy bear. What would this man think of him? “Arthur is actually my ex."

"Oh, booty call." Phillip grinned, a lopsided smile that had Thomas' cheeks glowing even hotter. "I can respect that."

“Yes, well. I apologise for disturbing you.” Thomas folded his arms over his chest, acutely conscious of Phillip’s gaze. Phillip’s tongue flicked out, wetting his lips in a flash of pink before he smiled again, clapping a hand onto Thomas’ shoulder.

“Hey, no big deal,” Phillip said with a quirk of his eyebrows. “I'm sure I'll return the favour at some point.” He gave an exaggerated wink before grabbing his pile of bags from the floor and sauntering into his apartment. 

As the door clicked shut, Thomas frowned, unsure exactly what Phillip was implying. Was he threatening to have loud sex? Thomas wasn’t sure he wanted to overhear that. Or maybe he did? His mind swam with the image of Phillip hovering over him, hair falling in front of his eyes with every thrust, sweat clinging to those broad shoulders…

Thomas shook his head, trying to quash the sudden heat that had spread through him. He'd already had his fun; he didn’t need his body acting up again. Once this week was plenty, thank you very much.

As he stepped onto the street, welcoming the cool air on his skin, Thomas glanced up, catching a glimpse of Phillip at his window. Heat rose to his cheeks once more and he clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm in an attempt to clear his mind. He had work. He had a promotion to aim for. He needed to focus. 

God, Phillip really did have the most perfect lips. 

This was going to be a problem.


	2. The Problem With Noisy Neighbours

Not unexpectedly, Phillip was as good as his word. It was only a few nights after their initial meeting, in fact. Thomas was lying in bed with a book, just contemplating turning off the lamp and settling down, when he heard it: a deep rumbling groan, muted through the wall, but still unmistakably sexual. 

_Oh, here we go_ , Thomas thought to himself _I should have expected this_. He rolled over, pulling his pillow to cover his ears, trying his hardest to block out the muffled words. 

_“Fuck yeah, c’mon baby, you like that?”_

Thomas breathed deep, closing his eyes against the answering moan of the woman in Phillip’s apartment. He pressed his face into the pillow, trying desperately to ignore the pressure between his legs as his cock started to harden. The moans only grew louder, the sound of a headboard hitting the wall picking up pace.

Thomas resolved to buy some earplugs. 

The night was spent tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling, and trying not to think of just what Phillip might look like in the throes of passion. Thomas certainly knew what he sounded like, now, and the images in his head were too much to ignore. He rolled onto his front, pressing himself into the mattress and gently rocking his hips, lost in his imaginings until finally, sleep took over.

The next morning, the sound of the alarm ripped through Thomas’ consciousness, tearing him from the arms of his dreams and jolting him upright. This wasn't his regular alarm; this was his backup alarm, the alarm he never used.

He was running _ten minutes_ late.

Thomas swore, practically leaping from his pyjamas and into the shower. There was no time to wait for the water to warm. Thomas shivered, skin pink and covered in goose pimples, as he scrubbed himself as quickly—but still thoroughly—as he could.

His wet hair still dripped little trickles down his neck as he left the house, hurriedly pulling on a scarf against the winter chill. In a stroke of luck, the lift was on his floor and Thomas all but leapt into it, grabbing the black iron grate to slide it over.

“Wait! Just a sec.”

Thomas glanced up to see Phillip, pulling on his own coat and grinning as he spotted Thomas. He slipped into the elevator and smiled.

“Mornin’.” 

Thomas simply nodded, jabbing his finger at the button for the ground floor. The lift was old and narrow and Thomas could already feel the heat from Phillip’s body in the confined space. There was no sign of the woman he had heard the night before, something for which he was glad; the lift certainly wasn’t big enough for three people. Thomas grimaced to himself, glancing at his watch; at this rate he would only be fifteen minutes early for the morning staff meeting instead of his usual thirty.

“You okay there, Thomas? You’re looking kinda stressed. Hard day ahead?” Phillip leaned against the wall of the elevator, arms folded. His smile was soft and lazy, his hair tousled, and Thomas had the sneaking suspicion that he had just rolled out of bed.

“I’m running late, and we have some new displays that will need my utmost attention,” Thomas said, feeling a nerve twitch under the corner of his eye. “I didn’t sleep too well.”

Phillip pushed his hair from his forehead, looking slightly chagrined. “Ah. My fault, I’m guessing?”

Thomas sighed, feeling heat bloom in his chest as he glanced up to meet Phillip’s eyes. “Well, yes.” He folded his arms, pulling back to lean against the opposite wall and create as much space between them as possible. “I’d say we’re definitely even now.” He forced himself into a tight-lipped smile. “Your girlfriend?”

Phillip shook his head. “Nah, just a date. No one special.”

“Right.” Thomas straightened up as the lift slowed and he reached for the iron grating of the door, his hand brushing against Phillip’s as he did. He pulled back with a start, mentally chastising himself for the jolt that the simple touch had sent through him.

Thankfully, Phillip didn’t seem to have noticed; he slid the grating open and stepped back, extending his hand, gesturing for Thomas to go ahead of him. “Thank you,” Thomas said. “I don't mean to be rude, but I am running late.” 

Phillip shook his head and smiled. “Later. Don't work too hard. Stress’ll kill you, you know.”

“I'll be fine,” Thomas said, indulging himself with a last glance at Phillip's lips. 

He knew exactly how to deal with stress. 

Thankfully, work didn't bother Thomas too much. The new displays were arranged without a single hitch. Thomas’ only consternation came from the Mad Hatter’s tea party tableau; it was perfectly disorganised and needed to stay that way. Thomas had arranged it himself, delicately tipping teacups to balance perfectly atop stacks of saucers, towers of amazingly real-looking plastic biscuits piled around in colourful puddles that to the naked eye seemed entirely random. It had been the work of the entire morning and Thomas was constantly checking on it. Despite what his team thought, this mad tea party was perfectly organised. 

“Please tell me why someone has moved the dormouse _again_.” Thomas tapped his pen against his clipboard. “Are they doing it deliberately?”

“I'm sorry sir. I thought I put it back in the right place.” One of the junior assistants flinched and Thomas sighed.

“Look, she's just not in eye line with anyone else. How can she have a conversation with the hare when she can't even see them?” He moved the dormouse in her teapot three inches to the left. “There.” He nodded to the assistant. “Now be sure nothing else gets moved.”

“Yes, Mr McGregor.” 

Of course all the assistants and all Thomas’ hard work was nothing when faced with corporate decisions. He had just finished sketching plans for the Red Queen’s court—including an architecturally stunning castle made entirely of cards that he was itching to put together—when he was called over by the merchandising manager.

“Thomas, there has been a change of plans. Nigel has pointed out that Hamley’s also has an Alice in Wonderland display at the moment.” He pursed his lips and Thomas felt his stomach plummet, seeing Bannerman grinning over the manager’s shoulder as he continued. “Of course, we don’t want to be seen as copying them, so we’ll be changing our displays. Can you see to it that everything is taken down?” He glanced briefly at the tea party that had taken Thomas five hours to put together and sniffed as he turned away. “We’ll notify you when we decide the next project and you can get started on that straight away.”

Thomas swallowed back the anger rising to his throat, biting his tongue to keep from swearing at everyone in earshot. Instead, he nodded, turning to his display and picking up the dormouse once more. “You heard the man,” he said to the young woman beside him. “Let’s get this tidied up.”

“Mr McGregor, you worked so hard on this, are you—”

“I’m fine.” Thomas pursed his lips. “It’s fine.” He clenched his fist and shoved the dormouse into her hands.

By the time he returned home, Thomas’ knuckles were white, the palms of his hands marked with deep red crescents where his nails had dug into the soft skin. He stepped into the lift, slumping against the wall, barely stirring as another figure stepped in beside him.

“Hey, twice in one day, lucky me.” Phillip jabbed the button for their floor and leaned against the wall alongside Thomas. “You look worse than you did this morning. Bad day, huh?”

Thomas inhaled deeply and glanced up to meet Phillip’s eyes, his fists unclenching just a little at the sight of a half-smile and raised eyebrow.

“It wasn’t great,” Thomas admitted, and folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, it can only get better from here,” Phillip said. “You should get a drink or something. Y’know, de-stress.”

Thomas gave a thin smile. “I might just do that.” He straightened up, taking the opportunity to give Phillip a once over, stomach jolting when he realised Phillip was doing the same thing. He felt heat rising to his cheeks and dashed out of the lift the instant they reached their floor, wishing Phillip a good night as he entered his flat.

He already knew exactly how he was going to spend his night.

*****

A few hours later found Thomas panting, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, come on his stomach and hands, his toys lying next to him on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, a smile creeping its way up his face.

For the first time in a long time, memories of Arthur hadn’t interrupted his imaginings, his name absent from Thomas’ lips as he found his release. Thomas felt light, almost giddy. It had been so long since he’d been able to enjoy himself without interruptions from the past. 

He cleaned himself up, tidying things away and feeling a sudden pang of emptiness as he did so. Pulling Arthur from his place in the cupboard, Thomas sighed, kissing him on the nose and feeling a little bit of warmth return to his chest. Settling into bed, Thomas curled around the bear, nestling into the crook of one big arm. He pressed his face to the soft fur, murmuring, “Just cuddles from now on, I promise.” 

He breathed deep, warm and content as sleep overtook him.

The next day Thomas threw himself into his work with renewed vigour. The new feature display had been decided and Thomas had _plans_. He was already drafting ideas and planning construction as he stepped into the elevator that evening.

To his disappointment, Phillip was nowhere to be seen. Thomas waited for a few minutes, leaving the grate of the door open, just in case. It wasn’t until the call button for his floor lit that Thomas gave up, a flutter of dismay flickering through him.

It wasn’t for long though. As the elevator ascended, Thomas caught a glimpse of long legs, dark hair and frustratingly perfect lips. Phillip was waiting on their floor, arms folded and tapping his foot in impatience. Thomas straightened his coat and tie, smoothing down his hair with one hand. Butterflies had risen his stomach the moment he’d seen Phillip, and as the grate was slid open, he smiled.

“Good evening, Phillip.”

Phillip paused, returning Thomas’ smile halfheartedly. “Hey. Less stressed today, I see.” His features darkened, just for a moment. “I wonder why.”

Thomas frowned. “Excuse me?”

Phillip shook his head, “Nah, it’s nothing, never mind. Catch you later.” He brushed past Thomas and slid the lift door closed with a clang.

Pursing his lips, Thomas turned for his flat, not entirely sure why Phillip’s abruptness had put a dampener on his mood. He settled down at his desk, turning his mind to work and started to sketch.

*****

It was a couple of days before Thomas spotted Phillip again, passing him on the stairs one morning when the lift was broken. He gave Thomas a brief smile before continuing on his way, his lips pressed tight together. Thomas turned, watching him climb the stairs, taking note of the droop in his shoulders and the dishevelled state of his hair. Of all things, Thomas thought, Phillip looked stressed.

That night, Thomas discovered that Phillip’s tension relief methods were somewhat similar to his own, although, if the moans were anything to go by, they were somewhat less lonely.

_“C’mon, just give it to me. Fuck me.”_

Despite the wall between them, Phillip’s words shot straight to Thomas’ gut, lighting a spark inside him. Evidently, they had the same effect on the man in Phillip’s apartment, as the sound of the headboard hitting the wall increased to an almost frantic pace, dual moans growing louder and louder with every passing second.

Thankfully, this time, Thomas was prepared. He grabbed his earplugs from his bedside drawer, shoving them into his ears to block the noise from the other side of the wall. They cut the sound completely, and Thomas gave a sigh of relief.

Now if only there was something to block out the mental images.

*****

When they bumped into each other the next day, Phillip was looking a lot better. He grinned to Thomas, holding the elevator door for him. Much like the last time, there was no sign of the person who had spent the night with him.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” Thomas said, smiling to himself at the sight of Phillip’s mussed hair. It was oddly charming and Thomas had the momentary urge to brush the dark strands from his eyes. “I trust you’re well?”

“Pretty good,” Phillip said, a smile playing about his lips. “I had a date last night, so I guess that’s us even again.”

Thomas brushed a nonexistent thread from his sleeve, praying that his expression didn’t betray him. “I’m sorry?” he said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Phillip seemed to falter, staring at Thomas’ face, as he fought to keep it blank. “Y’know, with the noises and stuff. I heard it a few nights ago. You call your ex when you’re stressed and you fuck.”

Thomas met Phillip’s eyes with his own. “Oh, do I? Interesting.” He waited for a moment, holding his gaze. “Did you have a nice date, then?”

Phillip swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue. “No one special.” He stepped closer to Thomas, sending a thrill through him and making his breath catch in his throat.

Thomas swallowed in reflex, pausing for a moment. “I see.”

The lift stopped, neither Thomas nor Phillip moving to open the door. Thomas could feel the very air between them, heavy, like a storm on the horizon. Thomas brushed a hand over his hair, catching Phillip’s eyes one last time and giving what he hoped seemed like a confident smile. “Have a good day, Phillip.”

“Sure,” Phillip said. “I guess I'll see you later?”

Thomas nodded. “I'm sure you will.”

Work seemed to pass in an instant as Thomas threw himself into his latest display. He was particularly proud of this one: a tiny corner of the Hundred-Acre woods, contained within Harrods. He'd even included a bridge, for pooh-sticks. Autumn leaves brought a flash of colour to the area and Thomas found his mood brightening to match.

“You've outdone yourself this time, Thomas.” Marianne, the General Manager said, smiling as she appraised his work. “Keep this up and that promotion has your name written all over it.”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “I'm counting on it.”

His good mood lasted the rest of the day, brightening further still when he returned home that evening to find Phillip leaning against the wall of their apartment building, a cigarette in hand.

“Good evening, ” Thomas said. “Are you waiting for someone? Another date?”

Stubbing out his cigarette and flicking it into a nearby bin, Phillip stood, stretching out his arms; a movement which had his shirt straining over his chest, and Thomas felt a burst of heat in his gut.

“Nah, nothing like that tonight, just taking it easy. You?” Phillip tilted his head, fingers brushing his hair from his face. “No stress today?”

Thomas smiled. “I'm feeling quite good. I'll probably be the same tonight. Easy, like you said.”

“Good to hear.” Phillip shoved the door open, holding it with one hand and gesturing for Thomas to go through. “After you.”

They stepped into the narrow lift together and Thomas felt the brush of Phillip's hand against his lower back, the brief touch sending a jolt through him. His uniform was suddenly far too tight and he loosened his tie, undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Glancing up he noticed Phillip, his eyes fixed on his now-exposed throat. 

Thomas brushed his fingers down his neck and Phillip's gaze followed, until Thomas cleared his throat. Phillip jerked his head up, lips curving in a lopsided smile. 

They rode to their floor in silence, Thomas glancing every so often at Phillip and getting the distinct impression he'd just missed him doing the same. 

“Well,” Thomas said as the lift shuddered to a halt, “this is where we get off.” 

Phillip made a noise somewhere between a cough and a choke, spluttering something that Thomas didn't quite hear. 

“What was that, sorry?” 

“Nothing. Never mind.” Phillip pushed his hair from his face, not meeting Thomas’ eyes. “I'll catch you later. “

Thomas nodded, fingers itching to comb through Phillip's hair. “Have a nice evening, Phillip.”

As he closed the door of his flat, Thomas breathed deep, trying to settle into his usual evening routine without the image of Phillip distracting him. He changed, tidied, and made himself dinner without incident. It wasn't until he was sitting in front of the television that his mind started supplying him with images that made butterflies rise in his stomach and his cock rise in his pants. 

“Oh, not again,” Thomas murmured to himself, already sliding his hand down to squeeze at his cock through his trousers. His masturbation habits had never been all that frequent, but since Phillip had appeared Thomas found his appetite growing more and more voracious. He slipped a hand beneath his waistband, cupping his balls and rolling them gently. 

The Phillip in Thomas’ mind smirked and Thomas spread his knees in response, brushing the tip of his finger over the rim of his hole and groaning. 

“Right, okay, let's do this properly then,” Thomas muttered, tugging his clothes off as he entered the bedroom. 

_“Mm, that's good.”_

The familiar low rumble of Phillip’s voice floated through the wall and Thomas felt himself frown; Phillip had said he hadn't any dates planned for the night. Cock still in hand, he stepped closer to the wall between their bedrooms, tilting his head and listening intently. 

The only thing audible was Phillip's voice, no one else. Thomas felt his cock twitch at a particularly throaty moan, biting back an answering groan as he stroked down the length of it. 

_“Oh yeah, just like that.”_

Thomas wet his lips, wavering for just a second before another muffled moan sent him to his bedside drawer. He was already dribbling lube into his palm when his thoughts caught up with him. _Am I really going to do this?_

_“C’mon, give it to me.”_

_Okay, yes, yes I am._ Thomas slid his now-slick hand up his cock, stroking in time with the drawn-out groans from next door. He hissed in a breath, trailing his free hand over his stomach and up to circle at one nipple, pinching it between his fingers and allowing a small whine to escape his lips. 

Phillip set a leisurely pace, which Thomas matched with his hand, trying to time his downstroke to coincide with each moan. He circled the head of his cock, teasing himself slightly, alternating between soft strokes and hard squeezes, breath catching as he did so. 

Next door, Phillip groaned again, quieter this time, and Thomas wondered exactly what he was doing. Was he simply stroking himself? Or maybe he had toys? Maybe he had habits similar to Thomas himself and had a pillow to hump?

Thomas’ mind finally settled on the image of Phillip, lying on the bed as he was, knees spread wide as he fingered himself. Thomas shoved his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue quickly to coat them in saliva before dropping them to his hole, stroking across the rim, mirroring the Phillip in his imagination. 

Thomas circled his hole, barely dipping in, still stroking his cock in long, steady movements, keeping in time with Phillip's moans. Warmth pulsed through him, slow and lazy and Thomas shifted, thrusting into his hand, toes curling at the jolt of arousal the movement sent through him. Heat was pooling at the base of his cock in a gentle simmer, soft and pleasant but never quite enough. 

“More…”

On the other side of the wall Phillip’s voice quieted and Thomas froze, clapping his hand over his lips. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. He lay still, waiting, wondering exactly what was going through Phillip's mind. He'd most likely put him off completely, and no wonder, it was perverted, voyeuristic. Phillip would probably never so much as _look_ at him any more. 

_“Yeah? You want more I’ll give you more. Fuck.”_

Then again, maybe not. 

Thomas arched his back, returning to his movements with renewed vigour. He slicked his fingers, plunging them into himself with a moan. He fisted his cock, letting go of the last of his restraint; whatever noises he made didn't matter now. 

The muffled sound of Phillip’s voice mingled with his own as Thomas curled his fingers, brushing his prostate and huffing out a breathless cry as his cock twitched in his hand, precome dribbling from the tip. 

_“Oh that's good. I'm getting close.”_

“God, yes, give it to me.”

Thomas thrust into the circle of his fist, working his fingers in time with every snap of his hips, moans streaming from his lips, mingling with Phillip’s muffled cries. He heard Phillip grunt and swear, and threw his head back, cock pulsing into his hand as his orgasm overtook him. Clenching down on his own fingers, Thomas heard a final high whine escape him, a final spurt of come landing on his stomach.

Breath shaky, Thomas slumped back on his pillows, pushing a few sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. Heat coursed through him, the last ripples of his orgasm making him tremble. 

_Well,_ he thought. _I've never had sex like_ that _before._


	3. Learning to Let Go

Thomas straightened his tie, glancing at himself in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. Not a hair was out of place, as expected, yet Thomas felt a wave of nerves wash over him. He peered out of the peephole towards the lift. No sign of Phillip, the same as every time he'd checked in the last twenty minutes. Looking at his watch, Thomas sighed; he really needed to leave. 

With a final check in the mirror, Thomas pulled on his coat and strode for the lift, head turned towards Phillip’s door as he did. Anticipation bubbled up inside him, and he wondered what would happen when they saw each other. He swallowed as the memory of Phillip’s moans filled his ears. Would, perhaps, an in-person repeat of last night's activities be out of the question? He slid open the elevator door, waiting, eyes still fixed on the door of the flat. 

Still nothing. 

Thomas’ skin prickled, worry quickly rising through him. The previous night had been enjoyable, probably the best he had felt in a while, and now Phillip was avoiding him. 

No. Thomas shook his head; he was being ridiculous. He didn't know Phillip’s schedule. They didn't always get the lift at the same time. One missed encounter didn't mean anything. 

A week and a half later, Thomas wasn't quite so sure. 

He paced through the toy halls, lost in thought, snapping at every mistake. “Everyone knows the Gryffindor symbol is a lion. Someone please take this badger back to Hufflepuff.” Tension ran through his body and Thomas could feel a slow, steady ache growing in his head.

“You look rough McG. Had one too many last night?” Bannerman slapped Thomas on the shoulder, making him flinch.

“No, no, it's…” Thomas pursed his lips, he wasn't about to spill his woes on Bannerman, of all people. “It's nothing.”

“Right, great. I'm going on break. See you in a couple of hours, yeah?” 

“Nigel, we have inventory. We really should...and he's gone.” Thomas rubbed at his temple, the pain in his head growing worse by the moment. He turned to another member of his team. “Can I trust you to keep things running smoothly out here? It looks like I'll be working this month's inventory myself.”

“Yes, sir. Everything will be just fine.” 

Everything was _not_ fine. 

Thomas emerged from the stockroom an hour later, still triple checking figures in his head, and found himself faced with chaos. 

A colourful array of marbles coated the floor in an iridescent glass puddle, parents and children alike struggling to stay on their feet. A single assistant with a dustpan and shovel strove valiantly to gather them up, his progress impeded by the fact that several children were trying to eat them. The till points were crowded, keeping the rest of Thomas’ team busy; good for business, but not so great for controlling potential fall-related lawsuits. A particularly sticky young child caught Thomas’ eye as he looked on, cackling as she wiped her chocolate-covered hands along a line of stuffed polar bears. 

Inhaling sharply, Thomas sprang into action, fixing a smile onto his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you can make your way to this side of the marble spill, please.” He snatched a broom and a cauldron from the Harry Potter display, sweeping as he went. “We are currently having a sale on polar bears.” 

Shoving the broom and half-filled cauldron at his assistant, Thomas pulled his handkerchief and some hand sanitiser from his pocket. “Now, I know it seems like these chaps are a little bit grubby, but a quick wipe and they’ll be as good as new. However, we are still going to give you ten percent off. How does that sound?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of appreciation as several parents reached for the mildly smudged bears. Thomas smiled to himself, running the numbers in his head. As luck would have it, they currently had an excess of polar bears and this was a fine chance to free up some inventory space. He just hoped that upper management would approve.

They did not. 

“Mr McGregor, I understand where the thought came from, and while it was quick thinking on your part, you simply don't have the authority to sanction a sale.” Peter Tarkin, the head of the department, spoke over steepled fingers, his sharp gaze making Thomas sit ramrod straight. “However, as you managed to clear everything up without incident, I feel no need to press the matter further.” He looked over Thomas once more in appraisal, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Just remember, you haven't got that promotion _yet_.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said with a nod, feeling just a little bit lighter now. 

“Good. Now off you go. I'd say you've earned an early finish today.”

“Oh no, it's fine, sir. I—” 

“Thomas, go home. Relax,” Tarkin said in a tone that made it clear there would be no arguing. “You _are_ allowed days off, you know.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I'm sure there's something you'd rather be doing than clearing up messes here.” 

Thomas’ mind turned briefly to Phillip and he felt his mood plummet. He'd really thought there might be something there, but for almost two weeks now he hadn't seen—or heard, for that matter—anything. 

As if to underscore things, a heavy downpour of rain started the instant Thomas walked out the Harrods doors. He hauled his coat around him and set off at a brisk pace, wishing he had an umbrella. 

By the time Thomas got to his building, he was soaked through, miserable and shivering. His best Burberry coat was flecked with mud, the result of an overzealous taxi driver and a particularly foul puddle. He glanced towards the elevator and found it empty, something which made his mood drop even more. 

A dull ache pounded in Thomas’ head, red flares pulsing in his vision when he closed his eyes. He leaned against the side of the lift, catching a glimpse of himself in the brushed steel of the control panel. His hair was plastered to his head in lank strands and his skin seemed even paler than usual. 

“Great,” Thomas said to himself. “I'll probably catch a cold now.” And how miserable that would be, especially as he had no one to take care of him. Thomas rarely considered his single status—except to celebrate it where Arthur was concerned—but here and now, wet and miserable, he felt the sharp sting of loneliness. 

The lift shuddered as it reached his floor and, as Thomas slid open the grate, he heard a low growl.

“Oh, you asshole.”

Phillip stood in front of his own door, frowning down at a letter in his hand, which he immediately crumpled and shoved in his pocket. The broad lines of his shoulders were taut with tension, his full lips pressed together in a tight line.

Thomas could feel warmth blooming in his chest, bringing blood back to his rain-covered skin. He wanted to reach out and touch Phillip, to brush away the hair that fell over his eyes. He cleared his throat.

“Is everything okay?”

Phillip turned and Thomas swore he saw a brief flash of anger in his eyes before he shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Oh,” he said, “it’s you.”

Thomas frowned. This wasn't how he'd imagined things going when they ran into each other again.

“Yes, it's me, but if I'm bothering you then I'll just go inside.” Thomas reached for his keys, tilting his chin up and pointedly ignoring Phillip.

“You’re not. It's just…” Uncertainty tinged Phillip's words, a major contrast to the self-confidence Thomas had seen from him before. He stepped closer, seeming to waver a little.

“Just what, Phillip?” Thomas turned away from his own door, raising an eyebrow.

“You've been avoiding me.” Phillip met Thomas’ eyes, pushing his hair from his face.

Thomas sputtered. “I have not! You've been avoiding _me_.”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “You really expect me to believe that we've just been missing each other? I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks and you live next door.” 

“Well, believe it or not, that is what’s been happening,” Thomas snapped. His patience was wearing thin, the brief joy he’d felt at seeing Phillip again completely dissipated.

Phillip didn’t even seem to hear him, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on his feet. “Look, if you’re avoiding me, that’s fine. I get it. I really do. I mean ever since we—” 

Thomas held up a hand, cutting Phillip off. He wasn't in the mood for going over what had happened, not now, with his hair still dripping in his face and a cold trickle of rain slowly running down his spine. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. I've had a shit day and all I want to do is go home and—” _And what?_ Thomas thought. _Hug my teddy bear? Touch myself until I stop thinking?_

Evidently, Phillip thought something else.

“Of course. Arthur again,” he said, folding his arms. He pursed his lips, before biting at the lower one. Agitation was written in every line of his body, and Thomas frowned. Was Phillip really that bothered with the thought of him sleeping with his ex? He opened his mouth to ask as much and was stopped by a rough palm on his cheek as Phillip closed the distance between them. 

"You don't need to call him every time you get stressed. _I_ can give you want you want. You know that, right? The offer is there.” Phillip's voice was low and velvet-soft, sending a shiver up Thomas’ spine. He stroked a thumb over one cheekbone before pulling his hand back, dropping it to his side and shrugging in feigned nonchalance. “Y’know, if you want it."

Thomas fought back a smile. Okay, Phillip was definitely jealous; he was attracted to Thomas, and here he was, offering himself up on a silver platter. It was an opportunity Thomas wasn't about to turn down. Thomas had never been the type of man to shy away from something he wanted. 

Thomas stepped closer, bringing them almost nose-to-nose and feeling a thrill of triumph as Phillip visibly swallowed, his gaze flicking towards Thomas’ lips for the barest second. “Oh, I want it,” he said. “Do you?” 

“Fuck yes,” Phillip practically growled. “I've wanted it ever since I heard you getting fucked.” He leaned in close enough for Thomas to feel the stubble against his neck as Phillip whispered in his ear. “Wanna make you moan like that.”

Thomas pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “You'll just have to do a good job, then, won't you?” 

“You’d better fucking believe it.”

Phillip’s gaze raked over Thomas, raw and hungry, and Thomas suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with his damp clothes. He pressed a single forefinger to Phillip’s sternum, gently pushing him back towards his apartment. “Let me just go and get changed, then I’ll come over.”

“I was kinda hoping you could take off your clothes at my place,” Phillip said, with a smile. He took hold of Thomas’ wrist, bringing his hand to his lips and kissing the tip of his finger. “You really want to make me wait?”

Thomas drew his hand back and pushed his wet hair from his face. “Yes, actually. I think I do.” He turned towards his door, waving his hand behind him. “I'll see you soon, Phillip.”

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

Thomas smiled and slipped into his flat, his eyes widening the instant the door clicked closed.

_Shit, shit, shit. Okay, this is actually happening. What do I do?_

Thomas paced across his living room and back again, fiddling with his tie. He breathed deep, trying to will away the tension that had settled across his shoulders. He had no reason to be nervous; he and Phillip both knew what this was.

Fingers fumbling, Thomas quickly undressed and dashed for the bathroom. He leaned over the sink, trying to comb his hair back into some semblance of order. Grabbing a washcloth, he scrubbed vigorously under his arms and between his legs. He wasn't sure exactly what activities Phillip had planned, but he wanted to be prepared. For a brief moment, Thomas considered grabbing his lube to prep himself before discarding the idea as too presumptuous. He did at least brush his teeth; he was going to kiss Phillip, he knew that much. Those lips had tempted him for too long. 

Towelling down quickly, Thomas moved to the bedroom, grabbing a pair of slightly too-big jeans, sliding them on before realising he'd probably need underwear—at least to begin with. Tugging the jeans back off, Thomas tutted to himself, scanning over his underwear drawer before selecting plain black boxers and hauling them on. His eagerness caught him a little off guard, but, then again, it had been so long since he'd last had human contact that wasn't work related. Thomas paused, taking a moment to breathe deep as he buttoned up his shirt. He glared at himself in the mirror. 

“Okay, you're about to go have casual sex with your hot neighbour” He pointed at his reflection. “Don't fuck it up.” 

Thomas straightened his shoulders, giving his hair a final once-over before heading for the door. His fingers were already closing around the handle when he turned away again. 

_Maybe I should bring wine?_

_No that's stupid, this isn't a date._

_It might be; he shags most of his dates._

Thomas frowned, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He grasped the door handle, tightly this time, and headed straight for Phillip’s flat. 

The rap of his knuckles on the door seemed to echo for an eternity before Phillip answered, a wide smile on his face. 

“You actually came over.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I wasn't sure you would.”

“Well,” Thomas said, “here I am.” He gave a small smile, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. 

Phillip seemed transfixed, still grinning widely at Thomas. “Here you are,” he said softly, before he seemed to catch himself, pulling the door completely open. “You should come in.” 

Glancing into Phillip’s apartment, Thomas noted that it was a mirrored floor plan of his own, far more haphazard in decorating choices, though, a few labelled boxes still sitting unpacked in the corner. 

Thomas had barely stepped through the door when Phillip’s hands landed on his shoulders, roughly spinning him around to press their lips together in a kiss that tasted of stale cigarettes; his tongue immediately slid into Thomas’ mouth. 

It was sloppy, disgusting, and _exactly_ what Thomas wanted. He groaned, grabbing a handful of Phillip's hair and tilting his head for a better angle. He heard him hiss in a breath as their tongues brushed together. Phillip pulled back for just a second to kick the door closed before closing the distance once more. He slid his hands from Thomas’ shoulders to his waist and then into the back of his jeans, cupping each buttock in one big hand and easily lifting Thomas off his feet. 

Thomas groaned, wrapping his legs around Phillip's waist and ducking down for another messy kiss. 

It was glorious—the flavour of tobacco slowly giving way to the taste of Phillip himself with every slow swirl of Thomas’ tongue. He kept one hand gripped tight in Phillip’s hair—silky smooth between his fingers—gently tugging to change the angle of Phillip’s head and feeling a shiver with every gasp the action produced.

“Do you like it when I do that?” Thomas asked, his voice low and slightly breathless. 

“Hell yes.” Phillip’s breath was hot against his lips as he walked them to the couch, practically throwing Thomas onto it. “Do you like it when I do this?” He all but crawled over Thomas, kissing up his neck and along his jawline, the hair of his moustache making Thomas shiver. 

“Mm, yes,” Thomas said, his eyes slipping closed as Phillip planted open-mouthed kisses up and down his throat. His fingers had tangled in Phillip's hair again, not tugging this time but gently stroking, combing through the thick waves. 

Phillip was already starting on the buttons of Thomas’ shirt, slipping them open one by one, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. 

Thomas groaned and pulled Phillip back up to kiss him once more. He planted his hands on Phillip’s shoulders, rubbing down the broad expanse of his back before tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. “I think you should take this off.” 

Phillip smirked, pulling back for a moment to haul the t-shirt off and toss it onto the floor. “That good enough for you?” 

Sitting up on his elbows, Thomas felt his mouth go dry. He reached out, needing to touch. He gently ran his thumb over the curve of each collarbone, following it with his lips. Phillip’s skin was warm beneath his palms as he traced the shape of each muscle, steadily moving lower to trail circles across his stomach. He pressed kisses around Phillip’s navel before sitting back up to admire the view once more. “This is very good, thank you.”

Phillip surged forwards, pressing Thomas back onto the couch as he kissed him, nipping at his lower lip before soothing the bites with his tongue. He pressed close, the bare skin of their chests flush together, filling Thomas with heat.

With a breathless groan, Thomas parted his knees, letting Phillip settle between them. He was growing harder with every kiss, every touch, every caress, and he needed to know that Phillip was as affected as he was. Circling his hips upwards, Thomas felt a jolt of electricity as his erection brushed against something equally as hard, making Phillip swear into his mouth.

“Fuck, I want you.”

Thomas slipped his hand into the back of Phillip’s jeans and gave a squeeze. “Well, I’m right here. What do you want to do with me?”

Phillip groaned, grinding against Thomas in a movement that made them both gasp. “This is good,” he said, “for now.” He circled his hips, slowly rubbing against Thomas, a low “Mm” falling from his lips. And then they were kissing again, slow to start and building in intensity as their movements quickened. 

Arching his back, Thomas let out a noise that was almost a whine. Kissing and grinding was all well and good but he wanted more. Slipping his hands lower he reached for Phillip's cock, pressing his palm flat against it, feeling the heat even through Phillip's jeans. After a few more strokes, he moved on, working the buttons of Phillip’s trousers, needing fewer barriers between them. Phillip pulled back, giving him room. His cheeks were starting to glow, breath coming slightly faster as he gazed over Thomas, still kneeling between his spread legs. 

“God you're hot,” Phillip said, running his hands up and down Thomas’ sides. “I wanna suck your dick.” He dropped down to plant a small peck on his lips. “That work for you?” 

“I—yes, absolutely.” Thomas shuffled awkwardly up the couch to sit upright. He pushed his still-damp hair from his face, wetting his lips as Phillip stood from the couch, shimmying out of his jeans to stand in nothing but tented boxers. 

“Great,” Phillip said, “gimme a sec.” He disappeared into his bedroom, giving Thomas a moment to compose himself and rearrange his cock inside his underwear. He left his trousers on, though, wanting Phillip to undress him. 

Phillip returned with a handful of condoms, which he tossed onto the living room table, prompting Thomas to raise an eyebrow. “I don't think I can go that many times.” He smiled at Phillip, who was crouched, sorting through the different-coloured wrappers. “At least, not tonight.” 

Phillip let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I don't think I can either. Just wanted a little variety.” He picked up a condom in a bright red wrapper. “You seem like a sour cherry kinda dude.” He knelt down, pushing Thomas’ knees apart and running his hands up his thighs, squeezing slightly. 

“I don't even want to know what you mean by that,” Thomas said, leaning forward to press his lips to Phillip's. Phillip pushed in, too, deepening the kiss, his hand firmly on Thomas’ chest, thumb brushing against one soft nipple. He squeezed at Thomas’ thigh with the other, trailing up towards his cock. 

Thomas sighed, tipping his head back as Phillip started to kiss down his neck, soft flutters of lips punctuated with little nips that shot sparks through him. Phillip stroked at Thomas’ stomach, squeezing the soft skin of his hip before finally—blessedly—reaching for the zip of his trousers. 

Thomas lifted himself to allow Phillip to strip his jeans off, hurriedly kicking his socks and shoes aside. They joined the pile of clothes on the floor and Thomas felt the briefest flash of concern at his pale, skinny legs before Phillip's lips were on the inside of his thigh, sucking and biting, making him harder with every touch. 

The rough skin of Phillip’s palms was on his hips, and Thomas arched into the sensation before Phillip was tugging his underwear down, his cock springing free. Phillip nuzzled against the hard length and then froze. 

“What the—” He brushed a hand over the sparse trim of Thomas’ pubic hair. “What do we have here?”

Thomas groaned, cringing internally. It had been so long since he'd had sex with a real person that he'd completely forgotten to shave. 

Phillip pulled back, still crouched between his knees, an expression on his face that could almost be called awe.

“You're _ginger!_ ”

Thomas slumped back into the couch cushions, pressing a hand to his face to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“But, wait, you…” Phillip reached up for the shirt that still hung from Thomas’ shoulders, pulling it aside to peer at his armpits. “Seriously? You dye that but not this?” He slid his hand back down, brushing against Thomas’ cock, causing it to twitch, and Thomas to let out another groan. 

“I'm sorry, are you here to pass judgement on my pubes, or are we going to have sex?” 

“Hey, no judgement here.” Phillip smiled at Thomas before raising his eyebrows. “I bet you look cute _au naturale_ , though.”

Thomas shoved at Phillip's shoulder. “Stop that.” He couldn't remember the last time he'd had his hair its natural colour. Come to think of it, he couldn't think of the last time he'd been called ‘cute’, either. 

“You're cute when you're embarrassed, too,” Phillip said. His hand was still on Thomas’ cock, and he moved it now, grasping it in a loose fist and stroking slowly. 

“You've got a nice dick,” Phillip mumbled, kissing his way back down Thomas’ stomach. “Wanna sit on that dick.”

Thomas stroked his fingers through Phillip’s hair, a wry smile on his face. “Are you going to keep talking the whole time?”

Phillip scraped his teeth over his lower lip, hand squeezed tight on Thomas' thigh. “You wanna shut me up, huh? Do you wanna fuck my mouth?”

Thomas swallowed as his cock visibly twitched, something that Phillip did not fail to notice. “Oh yeah, you like that.” He tore the condom packet open with his teeth, quickly rolling the offensively pink latex down Thomas’ length. “Don’t be afraid to tug my hair. I’m into that.” And with that statement, he took Thomas entirely into his mouth.

Thomas went taut, the wet heat of Phillip’s mouth overwhelming all other sensations. He could feel the flat of Phillip’s tongue working along the underside of his cock and hissed in a breath, his fingers instinctually clenching in the soft waves of Phillip’s hair. “F-Fuck,” he sighed, feeling rather than seeing Phillip smirk around him.

With one hand around the base of Thomas’ cock, Phillip bobbed his head. He drew back almost all the way, lapping at the head and circling it with his tongue a few times. His other hand squeezed at the soft skin of Thomas’ hip, thumb stroking over his stomach. 

Thomas settled back onto the couch, eyes closed, simply enjoying the sensations that washed through him. He kept one hand in Phillip's hair, barely guiding him, gently rocking into the heat of his mouth. Phillip pulled away again to flick his tongue over the tip of Thomas’ cock, teasing little licks that made him pant and arch, sweat starting to rise on his forehead. 

“Phillip. Phillip, please.” Thomas sat up to see Phillip looking up at him, mischief sparkling in his eyes. 

He pressed a kiss to Thomas’ cock and smirked. “What?” 

“Fuck” was all Thomas said, gripping tight in Phillip's hair and pushing him down. His hips snapped forward, sliding his cock entirely into Phillip's mouth. 

Moaning in response, Phillip dug his fingers into Thomas’ thighs. To Thomas’ surprise and joy, he didn't seem to have any gag reflex whatsoever, simply slipping his eyes shut and hollowing his cheeks as Thomas thrust into the circle of his lips. 

“Oh my god.” Thomas couldn't look away. Watching his cock slide in and out of Phillip's mouth sent an electric jolt of arousal through him, bringing him close to the edge far sooner than he'd expected. He tugged at Phillip’s hair, trying to urge him back. Phillip ignored him, increasing his pace and opening his eyes to gaze up at Thomas. He winked, reaching for Thomas’ hand and bringing it to the back of his head, his message clear. 

Thomas moaned now, taking the hint and pushing Phillip back down, guiding his movements as his hips snapped forwards in earnest. 

“Phillip, fuck. I'm close. I'm really close,” Thomas panted out, feeling his balls draw up and the pressure at the base of his cock become too much. He held tight to the back of Phillip’s head, pressing him as close as possible. Thomas’ hips shuddered and he felt Phillip swallow around him as he came with a grunt, his toes curling with every pulse.

Legs trembling, Thomas slumped back, his chest heaving as the aftershocks rippled through him. He loosened his grip on Phillip’s hair, gently stroking it down.

Phillip pulled himself up to sit next to Thomas, a wide smile on his lips. “See what happens when you let yourself go? That was fucking hot.” He pressed in for a kiss that tasted faintly of artificial cherries, petting Thomas on the knee. “You need a minute there, champ?”

Thomas winced, pulling the condom from himself and tying it off. “Just give me a second. I fully intend to give as good as I get.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” Phillip said. He swung a leg over Thomas, straddling his lap and stroking his sweaty hair from his face. Hands sliding lower, he took Thomas’ chin, tilting it upwards and leaning in, kissing him deeply. 

Thomas pulled Phillip closer, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against his stomach. He spread his hands over the broad expanse of his back, sliding lower to squeeze at his ass, before slipping his fingers under the waistband of the underwear Phillip still wore and tugging them down.

Phillip let out a sigh as his cock sprang free. He stroked his fingers down the back of Thomas’ neck, nuzzling against his hair. “You know, now that I know, I think I can see your roots showing.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, gently swatting at Phillip’s ass. “Do you want me to suck you off or not?”

“Ooh, I like it when you say it like that. It sounds so dirty in your accent,” Phillip said, rocking his hips, dragging his cock over Thomas’ stomach. “ _Suck you off_.” His approximation of an English accent was simply atrocious and Thomas sniggered, tapping at Phillip’s thigh to urge him from his lap and leaning towards the table.

“Let me just pick something from your...selection.”

Phillip shrugged. “I hook up a lot, gotta be prepared.” He slung his arms over the back of the couch, sitting with his legs spread, completely unashamed. Thomas couldn’t help but admire him, from the tousled waves of his hair, down his amazingly muscled chest to the thick line of his cock. It was just a shade larger than Thomas’ own and circumcised, something Thomas hadn’t much experience with. He imagined it couldn’t be that different, though. He grabbed a condom from the pile, tearing it open and bringing it to his mouth, wincing slightly at the artificial chemical sweetness of vanilla.

Taking hold of Phillip’s cock, Thomas gave a small squeeze. He held the condom between his lips, drawing in a breath and sliding downwards to sheath Phillip completely. He licked his way back up, swirling his tongue and feeling a burst of satisfaction as Phillip grabbed his shoulder, swearing.

“Shit, Thomas. Warn a guy, will you?” He stroked down Thomas’ spine, scooting up to lean against the arm of the couch and spreading his legs, letting Thomas settle between them.

Thomas gave a few gentle strokes before lowering his mouth again. Phillip’s cock was heavy on his tongue and he hollowed his cheeks, increasing suction as he bobbed his head. With his other hand, he reached for Phillip’s testicles, rolling them in his hand with a gentle squeeze. 

Phillip groaned as Thomas flicked his tongue over the head of his cock, moving his hips in a gentle thrust. His hand was still on Thomas’ shoulder, squeezing and circling in time with every bob of his head.

Thomas closed his eyes, losing himself in the motions, drinking in every sigh and half moan that Phillip let out. He moved his fingers, stroking at the skin behind Phillip’s balls before pressing a little farther: a silent question.

“Yeah, keep going,” Phillip panted, his head falling back as Thomas swallowed around him, pressing as far as he could go. He couldn’t quite take Phillip all the way but made up for the fact with his hands, stroking at the shaft of Phillip’s cock as he gently rubbed the pad of one finger over his hole.

“Oh, you’re a fucking tease. I should have known it,” Phillip said in a strangled voice. He stretched over, grabbing another packet from the table, tearing it open and dribbling the contents over Thomas’ hand. “There. Lube. Now come on, get your fingers in me.”

Pulling back with a snort of amusement, Thomas sat up, meeting Phillip’s eyes. “You’re very impatient, aren’t you?” He slicked his fingers, bringing them to Phillip’s entrance and circling a couple of times before sliding them in. “Is that better?”

Phillip’s only answer was a grunt and the slightest pressure on Thomas’ shoulder, urging his head back down. Thomas smiled, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Phillip stretched out before him before he wet his lips and leaned back down.

The vanilla flavour of the condom was fainter now, and much more palatable as Thomas licked a wet stripe up the length of Phillip’s cock, circling the head with his tongue before bobbing his head once more. He thrust his fingers in time with his movements, curling them up, carefully searching. Phillip mumbled, his words catching with his breath: “Up a little. Almost there, ah—” His fingers dug tight into Thomas’ skin, his back arching up. He thrust into Thomas’ mouth, his legs clamping tight on either side of Thomas head, holding him in place.

Thomas breathed deep, taking his hand from Phillip’s cock to rub at his thigh. With his other hand he circled Phillip’s prostate in gentle circles, brushing over it every time he lowered his head. He sucked and lapped, hearing Phillip’s moans grow louder and feeling his cock start to swell in his mouth.

“M’gonna come, fuck. Fuck.” Phillip curled in on himself, clamping tight around Thomas’ fingers, cock twitching, his come warm even through the barrier of the condom. Thomas curled his fingers a few more times, working Phillip through the aftershocks before finally pulling off with a final kiss to the head of his cock. He extracted his fingers, wiping the excess lube on the shirt that still hung from his shoulders before sitting back awkwardly, unsure of what exactly to do next.

Generally speaking, Thomas wasn’t the type to leave straight after sex; he much preferred closeness in the afterglow. However, if Phillip’s previous encounters had taught him anything, it was that he would probably want Thomas to leave. He shifted, glancing around for his underwear, when Phillip caught him by the wrist.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled Thomas against his chest, kissing him softly. “This was great. We should do it again some time.”

Thomas let himself lean in, spreading his hand over Phillip’s chest, feeling it rise and fall as his heartbeat began to slow. “You’d want to?” From what he’d overheard so far, Phillip didn’t seem the type to sleep with the same person twice. The thought that he might be an exception brought warmth to Thomas’ already flushed skin.

“Please, I owe it to myself. You’ve got some talented fingers, my man.” Phillip smiled widely before shifting, pulling the condom from himself and dropping it onto the floor. “I need to return the favour. Next time I’m gonna eat your ass like a fucking dessert. That work for you?”

Thomas coughed. “It has been a long while since I’ve done anything like that, but I wouldn’t be averse.”

Phillip rose from the couch, taking his clothes from the floor and starting to dress. “Great. Just give me a call next time your work stresses you out, and it’s a date.”

Thomas took this as his cue, scrambling back into his jeans but forgoing his underwear, simply shoving them into his pocket; he was only going along the hall anyway. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

Phillip was standing, a frown on his face. “Fuck, you know, I just remembered. I was supposed to have a date tonight.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and shrugged. “Ah well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, not really sorry at all—still washed in afterglow. “I’m sure you can reschedule.”

“Nah, I’d much rather have been here.” Phillip leaned in for one last kiss as he opened the apartment door. “They were no one special.”


	4. A Regular Occurence

Thomas was restless and he didn’t know why.

Physically speaking, he was exhausted. The moment he'd returned to his own flat he had flopped down on his bed, not even bothering to undress. He squirmed, pretty sure that he had stubble-burn on his inner thighs. He couldn't bring himself to care. A flash of heat burned through him; part of him actually liked the thought of being marked by Phillip. He got back to his feet, pulling his clothes off and pacing to the mirror, curious to see what other traces Phillip had left on him. 

As Thomas ran his fingers over the few blotches of red that stood out on his neck, he shivered. They would just about show over his collar if they hadn't faded by morning. He wondered if anyone would notice; the last thing he wanted was to be quizzed about his personal life. For a moment, though, he wished he had a friend, if only to brag for a little while. 

Thomas placed his hand on the wall, wondering what Phillip was doing on the other side. He wished he could have stayed a little longer. The afterglow lost some of its warmth when you were immediately getting dressed and leaving. Maybe next time—if there was one—he'd try to indulge a little longer. 

A shiver crept up Thomas’ spine, sending him rummaging for pyjamas. He dressed almost as quickly as he had before leaving Phillip’s. His stomach growled and Thomas realised he hadn't eaten a thing all evening; artificial vanilla flavouring certainly didn't count.

Dinner was a simple affair, as it always was, and as Thomas stared out of the window at the street lights below, he found himself wishing for company. It was unusual, Thomas thought; usually the peace of his flat was welcome, but now the silence seemed to press in on him, putting him on edge. Thomas glanced at the empty chair on the other side of the table, imagining for a moment that Phillip had joined him for dinner. He smiled at the thought. 

Of course, a relationship was out of the question. Thomas was far too busy, and he didn't think Phillip was the type to be tied to one person. He'd just need to close his ears the next time Phillip had a guest over and hope the jealousy wouldn't burn too much. 

Still, though, it was a nice thought: having a relationship again. Thomas shook his head, willing the image of himself and Phillip hand-in-hand out of his mind. No, he needed to be realistic; this was just sex, and good sex at that. He should be grateful for that much. He rose and stretched, feeling his neck pop. He returned to his bedroom, wavering for just a second before going to his cupboard and pulling Arthur from his hiding place. 

“I think I might need the cuddles tonight,” Thomas murmured as he lay the bear onto his bed and slid under the covers. 

Burying his face in Arthur’s chest, Thomas arranged the bear’s arms around him in a facsimile of the contact he really wanted. It was nice, but not enough. There was no warmth that came from human contact; there was no steady rise and fall of breath to lull Thomas to sleep. There was only Thomas, alone in his flat, clinging to the best source of comfort he had, even as his mind was firmly fixed next door, just a few feet away.

Thomas seemed to float through work for the next few days. There were no major incidents, no sudden sales plan changes, and Thomas found himself bristling with irritation. He needed something to happen; he needed an excuse to see Phillip again. As it was, even Bannerman seemed to be working; it was infuriating. 

He bumped into Phillip as he returned home that evening, a takeaway dinner for one clutched in his hand.

“Hey.” Phillip’s voice was bright as he held the door open for Thomas. “How's it going?”

Thomas smiled, glancing at Phillip’s lips and shivering at the memory of them wrapped around him. “I’m very well, thank you, and you?”

Phillip stretched his arms out, making his shirt strain and Thomas’ mouth water. “Same shit, different day.” He raised an eyebrow as he met Thomas’ eyes. “I could use a little excitement, y’know?”

Warmth bubbled up in Thomas’ chest and he pursed his lips, as if he were trying to come to a decision. “Well, now,” he said, “I'm sure we can find some way to keep you amu—”

Phillip's phone blared to life with an obnoxious buzz, making him swear as he dragged it from his pocket. “Yes?” 

His eyebrows creased in a frown and Thomas stepped back, not wanting to intrude.

“Yes, I did that. I called them.” Phillip sighed, tapping his foot against the floor. “Yes, Paul, I did that, too. I know what I'm doing.”

Thomas kept his eyes fixed on the door of the lift, pausing for a second as they reached their floor. Phillip was still on his phone and growing more irritated by the second. 

“Get off my back. I already said I'd meet her.” A tight-lipped grimace crossed Phillip's face as he brushed past Thomas, his fist clenched. “No. No, why would you think that?” 

Keys in the door, Thomas paused, unable to avoid listening in. 

“Yeah? Well, if that's what you think of me, then maybe I will. What then?” Phillip drummed his fingers on the door, making no move to go inside yet. “No, if you're so certain I'm gonna fuck up, I might as well take her to bed, live up to all your expectations. Fuck you, man.”

Thomas swallowed and stepped inside, leaving the muffled sounds of Phillip's phone call on the other side of the door. He knew he shouldn't feel as disappointed as he did. He was well aware this was only a casual arrangement, but listening to Phillip state he was going to sleep with someone just to spite whoever was on the phone brought a sour taste to his mouth. He sighed, looking around his empty apartment and immediately turned about. He couldn't stay there; he was heading out. 

There was a small coffee shop a few streets away, warm and cosy and far more welcoming than Thomas’ own home felt right now. As the grey clouds overhead began to drizzle, he stepped in, glad to see that it was near empty. He placed his order and headed for a table by the window, stopping at a small shelf stacked haphazardly with a selection of books. To his delight he found a copy of _The Dambusters_ , almost as well-thumbed as his own, and settled at his table, hoping to kill a few hours without thinking of Phillip, relationships, or any other nonsense of that sort. 

Thomas had just finished his tea and was considering ordering another when a familiar voice interrupted his peaceful solitude. 

“Well, well, Thomas McGregor actually relaxing for once. What a rare sight.” 

Thomas stiffened, looking up from his book to meet pale blue eyes and a wide, shark-like smile that made him shiver. It had been six months, but there was no mistaking that voice. 

“Arthur.” 

“Oh, come now, don't say it like that. It's nice to see you.” Arthur slid gracefully into the seat opposite Thomas, sitting his takeaway coffee cup onto the table. “You know I haven't heard a word from you since your little temper tantrum six months ago.” He rested his chin in one hand, thumb stroking the broad line of his jaw. “Don't you miss me?” 

Thomas folded his arms across his chest, trying vainly to push down the hot burn of anger rising through him. “That wasn't a ‘temper tantrum’, Arthur. I dumped you.”

“And I imagine you've been terribly lonely ever since?” Arthur's smile was sly and knowing, growing wider as the blow hit, and Thomas frowned at the truth of the statement. “Well, never mind that. I'm only in London a few days; my firm is setting up some new offices in Dubai.” He wet his lips, and Thomas started as he felt Arthur's foot begin to slide up his leg. “I have a room at the Bulgari if you're interested in a little _reunion_.”

“No,” Thomas said, pushing himself back from the table. “Why would you possibly think I’d be interested?” 

Arthur's gaze narrowed, predatory, and Thomas felt a shudder run through him at the attention. 

“Because I know you,” Arthur said. “I know what you want. Besides”—he sat back, taking a sip of coffee—“what else are you going to do? Sit at home and play with your toys?” 

Heat was rising to Thomas’ cheeks in a mix of embarrassment, rage, and, to his utmost shame, arousal. He clenched his fist and glared at the scratched wood of the table, anything to avoid the smug self-satisfaction that Arthur seemed to exude. 

“I said I'm not interested. Now, if you could leave me to my book, there is nothing else I have to say to you.”

A brief flicker of annoyance seemed to flutter across Arthur's handsome face and Thomas felt a thrill of pleasure at breaking that facade. He rose, taking his coffee, and shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you know where I am when you change your mind.” He leaned down, whisper close, the woody scent of his aftershave filling Thomas’ nostrils. “A word of advice, darling,” Arthur murmured, voice husky and low, “your roots are showing.” He rose back to his full height, smirking. “You might want to tidy that up.” 

Thomas didn't reply; he simply opened his book again and sat back in his chair. “Goodbye, Arthur.”

His tone was nonchalant, but inside Thomas burned. The sheer _arrogance_. And just when he'd been starting to feel better as well. The gentle tinkle of the door indicated that Arthur had gone and Thomas dropped the book to the table, letting out a breath. His sense of calm was completely gone, replaced by a fizzing in his veins, the desire to do something— anything—to get the image of Arthur’s smug smile out of his mind.

The answer was simple enough and Thomas knew it. He waited only a few more minutes to make sure Arthur was out of the vicinity before placing the book back on its shelf and paying his bill.

A light drizzle misted across Thomas’ skin, becoming a full-on downpour as he hurried along the short walk back to his flat, soaking him to the bone and making him shiver with more than anticipation. He practically wrenched open the elevator’s iron grate when he reached his floor, striding straight towards Phillip’s door and pounding on it with his fist. Thomas crossed his arms, tapping his foot in impatience, needing Phillip to answer, needing the press of his body and the stale smoke taste of his lips to wipe Arthur from his mind.

There was no answer.

Groaning in frustration, Thomas slunk back to his own flat. It was just as empty as when he'd left, his abandoned dinner for one still sitting on the countertop, cold. Shoving the food into the microwave, Thomas paced back to the door, peering out of his peephole in hopes that he could catch a glimpse of Phillip. 

Still nothing. 

Thomas ate, his foot tapping out a staccato on the floor as he did. He was filled to the brim with a nervous energy that had nowhere to go. Clearing the kitchen brought a brief respite, so Thomas continued, scrubbing and cleaning every inch of his flat until it sparkled. It brought him no satisfaction. 

Thomas resorted to the shower, scrubbing his skin pink before reluctantly taking himself in hand, thoughts of Phillip at the forefront of his mind. It was quick and unsatisfying, leaving Thomas with a hollow feeling in his chest. He needed more.

No books held his interest, there was nothing on TV to distract him, and his violin served only to frustrate him, every note drawing his melancholy closer to the surface. Finally, Thomas settled with his laptop, ordering toys he definitely did not need—but who knew, maybe a new vibrator would cheer him up, at least a little? 

When he eventually took himself to bed, he gripped bear Arthur tight, hoping that by morning, his frustrations would be gone. Desperately willing his body to relax, Thomas clenched his eyes shut against the darkness and drifted into a fitful sleep. He awoke only once, when a door slammed next door. Straining his ears, Thomas could hear no sounds of voices and felt a slight bloom of warmth, that probably meant Phillip was alone. Sleep came a lot easier after that. 

The next day was a busy one, with early Christmas preparation plans brought to the fore. Thomas barely had time to breathe, let alone think, and it wasn't until he crashed into bed that night that his mind turned to Phillip. He had to face it: he wanted Phillip, badly—maybe not _quite_ as much as his promotion, but close—and tomorrow he would make sure he got the tension relief he needed. 

Thomas steamed through work, directing his team with military precision. Things were going well, and the thought of another evening with Phillip only buoyed Thomas. Nothing could ruin his day. 

“Mr McGregor, there is a gentleman asking for you at the main desk.”

“Oh.” Thomas felt a flutter in his stomach. Had he mentioned where he worked to Phillip? He couldn't remember. “Did he give his name?” 

“I don't think he did, sorry. Tall man, brown hair? He just said you'd be happy to see him.”

Thomas straightened his uniform, nervously patting down his hair as he strode to the main desk. That certainly sounded like Phillip's level of self-confidence. His face fell, however, as he rounded the corner and found Arthur leaning against the desk, a wide smile curling up his lips when he spotted Thomas. 

“There you are. Been having fun with your toys today, hmm?” 

“What do you want?” All pretense of customer service was gone, and Thomas folded his arms. “I thought I made it clear that I don't want to see you.” 

“Yes, you do play hard to get, don't you? I just wanted to tell you I'll be heading away again tomorrow night, and my offer still stands. Here.” Arthur held out a business card embossed with his name and the words _Room 406, the Bulgari x_ roughly scrawled across one corner. 

Thomas took the card and raised his eyebrows at the inscription, realisation dawning. “You really miss me, don't you?” He shoved the card roughly into his pocket, a small smile on his face. “Admit it.”

“I honestly don't know what you mean,” Arthur said with a wave of his hand. “I'm _trying_ to do you a favour.” His eyes narrowed, his voice icy and his smile cruel. “After all, who else would have you?” 

Thomas gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to get angry; he wasn't going to dignify Arthur's statement with anything more than a tight-lipped smile. “Will that be all?” he said, biting back the slew of hatred that threatened to slip past his lips. 

“For now,” Arthur said. “I'll see you again soon, I'm sure.” He turned before Thomas could reply, his coat billowing behind him in a way that put Thomas in mind of a villain in some melodrama. He drew in a breath, steadying himself. It was okay. He was free of Arthur; he'd be leaving London again soon enough, too. 

Thomas’ hands shook. He wasn't sure if it was with anger or discomfort. Arthur's words had cut deep, and despite knowing that was exactly what Arthur wanted, Thomas couldn't help but be hurt. It was exactly what had kept Thomas from leaving Arthur sooner: that certainty that no one else could possibly want him. 

That wasn't true, though, and Thomas knew it. Phillip wanted him; at least, he thought so. Tonight he would prove it. 

The instant he got home, Thomas swung into action, setting out a simple outfit of black jeans and a green sweater that he knew would bring out the colour of his eyes. He hung up his uniform, petting the cheek of bear Arthur before closing over the closet door and heading for the shower. Successfully resisting the urge to touch himself, Thomas washed as thoroughly as possible, Phillip’s promise to ‘eat his ass like a fucking dessert’ ringing strongly in his mind. He ate quickly, waiting for his hair to dry and trying not to wince when he looked in the mirror to see the copper of his roots starting to show.

Unlike the previous night, this time when Thomas knocked on Phillip’s door, it was anticipation rather than anger that flowed through him. Unfortunately, just like before, there was no answer.

Thomas stood waiting, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. He knocked again, louder, just in case, and turned away a few minutes later when the result was the same. 

Confidence wavering, Thomas paced the length of the hall. For the briefest of moments the words _Room 403, The Bulgari_ flickered in his mind. Thomas shook his head, banishing the thought; he wasn't that desperate. Arthur couldn't win. He'd just have to make himself feel better the usual way. 

Mentally filing through the collection in his bedside drawer, Thomas remembered his latest purchase. He hadn't checked his post yet, and so, mood slightly elevated, he wandered downstairs. 

It was as he was pulling the package from his mailbox that Thomas recognised a voice outside and peered through the front door to see Phillip, his coat pulled around him, talking to a woman with deep auburn hair. She was laughing and touching his arm. 

“—glad you asked me out.”

Phillip pushed his hair back with one hand and rocked back on his heels. “Yeah, it was nice. Let me get you a cab or something.”

The woman giggled, stepping closer. “Are you sure about that? I thought you might like me to come up.”

Thomas felt his stomach clench and leaned against the wall. He didn't dare look out, certain that Phillip would be kissing her now. Instead, he heard a cough. 

“Ah, maybe we could take a rain check on that. I'm not feeling too great.” Thomas couldn't be sure, but he thought Phillip sounded uncomfortable. 

“Well, okay then,” the woman said. “I'll just get a taxi. Give me a phone if you change your mind.” Her curt tone said exactly how likely she thought that was. Thomas could hear the distinct clack of her heels echoing down the street as she marched away. 

Thomas took another glance through the door and saw Phillip rubbing at his temples. “Fuck, Phillip, what are you doing?” he asked himself, reaching into his inside pocket and lighting up a cigarette. He took a deep drag, leaning against the wall of the building, gazing upwards. “Fuck.” 

Thomas shrank back, silently slipping up the stairs, not wanting to use the lift in case Phillip spotted him. He didn't need to know Thomas had been eavesdropping.

Returning to his flat, Thomas tossed his package onto the couch and sat. He wasn't sure what to do. He still wanted to see Phillip, but it seemed Phillip wasn't in the mood for company. 

A knock at the door interrupted Thomas’ thoughts. 

_Well,_ Thomas thought, _he's not in the mood for_ her _company, at least._ He couldn't keep the smile from his face as he pulled open the door to find Phillip standing there looking almost stunned. 

“Hey,” Phillip said, pushing his hair from his face, “if you're not busy tonight, wanna come over?” He glanced over Thomas, teeth scraping his lower lip as he took him in. “Damn, you look good. Sorry, you probably have plans.”

Thomas shook his head. “No plans at all.” He nodded at the coat slung over Phillip’s arm. “Were you out?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a...business dinner thing.” Phillip shrugged. “My brother wants me to do more networking; he’s a pain in the ass.” 

Thomas grabbed his keys and walked alongside Phillip to his apartment. “I’m still not entirely sure what you do. Did you tell me?”

“Nah, I don’t think I did. Probably too busy getting into your pants,” Phillip said, grinning at Thomas as he unlocked his own door. “I’m trying to expand my family’s business.”

“Which is?”

“Sporting goods, nothing interesting.” Phillip turned to Thomas, cupping his face in one hand. “I can think of far better things to do with my time.”

Thomas let out a breath of a laugh. “I’ll bet you can.” 

They leaned in at the same time, lips meeting in a soft kiss that quickly deepened. Phillip coaxed Thomas’ mouth open with his tongue, hand still caressing his jaw, his thumb running over the faint stubble there to send shivers down Thomas’ neck. 

Pulling back to catch his breath, Thomas placed his hands on Phillip’s shoulders. He could feel the muscles under his shirt, solid and warm. A burst of arousal shot through him, warming him from the inside out, and he pressed closer, sliding his knee between Phillip’s thighs.

“Your dinner can't have been that good if you're still this hungry,” Thomas said with a teasing smile. One big hand was flat at the small of his back, holding him close, and the taste of Phillip’s smoke-tinged breath hung between them. 

Phillip groaned, pressing into Thomas’ thigh, the heat of his cock evident even through their clothes. He leaned forward to plant kisses along Thomas’ jawline, voice a rough whisper in his ear: “I kept thinking about you, all night. I didn't even get dessert.” 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Thomas said, warmth blooming in his stomach. “What can we do to satisfy you, then, I wonder?” Phillip was already pushing his sweater up, his hands roaming from Thomas’ back to his chest, making him squirm in pleasure. His thumb brushed over one of Thomas’ nipples, surprising him, and he hissed in a breath through his teeth.

“Oh, you sensitive?” Phillip asked, repeating the motion, thumb rolling over the little nub. 

“Not usually,” Thomas said, his breath catching with every circle of Phillip’s thumb. “I think you just bring it out in me.” 

Phillip groaned, tugging Thomas’ sweater and the t-shirt underneath it off in one go. “You know just what to say to get me going.” He bent his head to kiss down Thomas’ neck, beard tickling slightly at the hollow of his throat. “I wanna get you naked.” 

Thomas snorted out a laugh. “Well, you’re halfway there already. By all means, keep going.” He slid one hand down Phillip’s back, grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing tight. His other hand found Phillip’s hair, tugging slightly as he whispered, voice husky, “I want you to fuck me tonight, and I want you to fuck me hard.”

The rumble of agreement Phillip let out in response vibrated against Thomas’ throat, sending shivers through his entire body. He gripped Thomas’ hip, pulling him by the belt loop to grind their clothed erections together. “Careful, Thomas, a guy could get used to talk like that.” He pressed his palm against Thomas’ cock, stroking it through his jeans. “I have my own plans for tonight, too.”

Pulling Phillip back up by the hair, Thomas kissed him, arousal jolting through his veins as Phillip’s tongue immediately found his own. He moaned into the kiss, Phillip’s hand still stroking him, fingers deftly working on the fastenings of his trousers. “Well,” Thomas breathed as they parted for air, “don’t let me derail you. What did you have in mind?”

Phillip answered by pulling back and turning Thomas around, shoving his trousers and underwear down as he did so. He kissed down the back of Thomas’ neck, hands gently stroking up his sides. “I wanna hear you moan,” Phillip whispered, pressing his still-covered cock against Thomas’ bare ass. “Bend over the arm of the couch for me?”

Thomas complied, grabbing a cushion to prop himself up before burying his face in another. Phillip’s attention was overwhelming; he felt vulnerable, exposed, stripped down to nothing more than pure want, and he loved it. There was no pretense here, no hidden messages or ulterior motives; Phillip wanted him and he wanted Phillip—that was that. He could feel Phillip’s hands on his buttocks and tensed slightly, shivering with anticipation.

The first hot sweep of Phillip’s tongue over his hole came as a surprise, and Thomas arched up with a cry. He could feel Phillip’s hands on each buttock, his breath warm as he blew over Thomas’ hole, holding him open to admire the way he twitched.

“Oh, fuck yes, just like that.” Phillip said, bending back to his task. He lapped around the circle of Thomas’ hole, his tongue just teasing at the rim, making Thomas squirm. His cock was hard and leaking, pressed against his belly, trapped between the couch and his body. Letting out another little moan, Thomas thrust his hips to find friction and was stopped by the tight grip of Phillip’s hand on his hip.

“Phillip,” Thomas said, shocked at the note of pleading in his own voice, “I need more.”

Phillip grunted in reply, pushing in close enough for Thomas to feel his nose pressed against his tailbone, his beard tickling just behind Thomas’ testicles as he sucked and lapped at his hole. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, moaning out with every circle of Phillip’s tongue. Sensation was threatening to overwhelm him. It had been so long since he had done anything remotely like this; it was almost too much. He cried out Phillip’s name as he thrust forward with his tongue, easily sliding in and out of Thomas in gentle laps.

“Oh, God, so good!” Thomas tried to push back, but found himself still held tight by Phillip’s hand on his hip. He was held firmly in place, his only choice to take whatever Phillip had to offer. 

Sweat was starting to bead on Thomas’ forehead where it was pressed against the cushion, his breath coming in short pants interspersed with moans. Phillip drove into him with his tongue—unrelenting—over and over until Thomas felt he could take no more.

And then he was gone, pulling away to leave Thomas open and exposed in the empty air.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Phillip said, his voice rough and impatient. “I need to have you. Now.” There was a soft _whump_ as Phillip’s shirt hit the floor, followed immediately by the sound of a zip and a crinkle of foil.

Thomas didn’t question why Phillip had a condom in his pocket as he saw the wrapper flutter to the floor, he was just glad. He felt one finger slide inside him, lube-slick and quickly followed by a second; that, though, he had to question.

“Do you keep lube next to the couch?”

“Maybe,” Phillip said, sliding the head of his cock between Thomas’ cheeks and hissing in a breath. “I might have been jerking off in here the last few days.” He nudged at Thomas’ hole with the head of his cock. “I didn’t want you to hear me calling your name every night.”

Thomas bit his lower lip, letting out a grateful sigh as Phillip pushed in. There was a slight stretch and burn, but more than anything he felt full; he felt wanted. “You can, ah—you can call my name now,” he gasped out.

“Yeah...yeah.” Phillip seemed to shudder, slowly drawing out and pushing back in. “Fuck, Thomas, I want you so bad.” He pulled Thomas up a little, hands on his hips, thrusting in short, sharp strokes.

“Yes, give it to me, please.” The change in angle had brought Phillip’s cock closer to Thomas’ prostate, brushing over it with every movement, and Thomas couldn’t help but cry out, giving up on words entirely. His cock bobbed in the air, slapping against his stomach with every snap of Phillip’s hips.

Phillip moaned in turn, wrapping an arm about Thomas’ chest and pulling him close, fingers gently pinching at one nipple in time with his movements. “So good, needed this, wanted you so bad.” His words were a low murmur in Thomas’ ear, surprisingly gentle in counterpoint to his rough thrusts.

Thomas could feel a pressure inside him—low and intense—building and building with every push of Phillip’s cock. His breath caught in his throat as the sensation became almost overwhelming. His cock twitched with a spurt of wetness and Thomas gasped in surprise; Phillip wasn’t even touching him, he wasn’t about to…was he?

Leaning up to press his back against Phillip’s chest Thomas panted his name: “Phillip, oh God, Phillip.” He could feel the tickle of beard that was Phillip’s chin on his shoulder and reached for his hair, holding him in place, wanting him to see just what he’d done to him.

“Oh, fuck, are you coming?” 

Shuddering, Thomas pushed back onto Phillip’s cock, crying out as his orgasm overtook him.

The first spurt of Thomas’ come hit the couch in a spatter and he took himself in hand, wringing out the next few pulses with a grunt. Phillip was still moving, sucking and biting at the side of his neck, hips thrusting at an almost frantic pace. He dug his fingers into the soft skin of Thomas’ hips and growled, coming with a final hard thrust. Thomas could feel the heat inside him and his cock let out a final spurt, twitching in his hand.

“Wow,” Phillip mumbled, gently kissing the bites he had left on Thomas’ neck, “that was...wow.” He wrapped his arms around Thomas’ chest, holding him close and hissing in a breath as he pulled out.

Thomas moaned, glad for Phillip’s arms around him. His knees trembled and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold himself up. He felt as if he were floating outside his body somehow, lost in a haze of satisfaction. It barely registered when Phillip gently maneuvered him onto the couch, mopping the come from his stomach and the cushion next to him.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you came just like that. It’s so fucking hot.” Phillip flopped down, pulling the condom off and dropping it to the floor. He stroked the hair from Thomas’ forehead. “You in there, babe?”

Thomas nodded. Tremors still wracked his body and his skin rose in goosepimples. “That has never happened before, ” he huffed out a shaky breath. “It was rather intense.” He curled in on himself on the couch, not ready to think about leaving, despite the fact Phillip was already pulling his shirt back on. He patted Thomas on the thigh and rose from the couch, heading for his bedroom.

Thomas swallowed, willing away the sting of sorrow that rose in his chest. He reached for his own t-shirt, hauling it over his head and was just slipping his underwear back on when Phillip reappeared. He had put on pyjama trousers and was carrying a blanket, stopping short when he saw Thomas dressing.

“Oh, you’re leaving? I thought you might need some more time to come down. I was gonna say we could watch a movie or something.” He looked at Thomas, his smile somewhat uncertain. “What do you say?” 

Thomas felt his mouth fall open in surprise. Relief surged through him and he gave a watery smile as Phillip returned to the couch, hauling the blanket over his knees. He lifted it at one side and patted the cushion next to him in invitation. Thomas sank back down and immediately felt Phillip’s arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. He leaned against the solid warmth of Phillip’s chest with a sigh, daring to drape his own arm over Phillip’s stomach, squeezing tight to him. He knew he was clinging, but right now he needed that closeness.

“I didn’t take you for the cuddling type,” Phillip said. He kissed at the top of Thomas’ head, rubbing circles on his shoulder. “It’s cute.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, pulling away. “I promise I’ll leave soon. I just need a moment.” 

Phillip held Thomas tightly. “Hey, there’s no rush. Like I said: movie time.” He reached for Thomas’ legs, hauling them over his knees to settle him almost in his lap. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Well,” Thomas said, “there was this one documentary about fighter pilots in World War Two I was interested in. Would that be okay?”

“Sure, works for me. You like war programmes. You seem like the type?” Phillip trailed his hand up Thomas’ bare leg to rest it on his knee.

“Some, but this one is very much about the forbidden love between the pilots.” Thomas settled against Phillip’s shoulder. “Of course, due to the circumstances were forced to keep everything a secret.”

“Man, that sucks. It’s a true story, then?”

Thomas nodded. “It’s okay, though, they found each other after the war. They spent the rest of their lives together.”

Phillip glanced down at him, his expression unreadable. “That’s really nice.”

Their eyes met and Thomas felt warmth bloom in his chest. “It is, isn’t it?” His heart was hammering again, and he coughed lightly, turning away. “I like planes, too. I learned to fly at a former RAF airfield.”

Phillip frowned. “Bullshit,” he said. “You seriously know how to fly a plane? How?”

“Flying lessons,” Thomas said with a shrug, “They were a gift from my ex. Arthur thought money was an acceptable substitute for affection.”

“Arthur sounds like a real dick.” Phillip’s grip tightened on Thomas’ shoulder slightly and he reached for the remote. “You don't see him any more, do you?” 

Thomas smiled, quite enjoying this little possessive streak of Phillip’s. _Who else would have you?_ indeed. He patted at Phillip’s hand. “Oh, definitely not. I am well and truly over him.” He paused for a moment. “You’re right about the first part, too; he was very selfish. The man wouldn't even _touch_ my arse unless he was about to shove his dick in it.” He leaned up, pressing a kiss to Phillip’s cheek. “I'm afraid you've quite spoiled me, now.”

Phillip settled back into the couch, looking pleased with himself. “Good.” He gave a wink. “I’d eat your ass any day.”

Thomas snorted with laughter. “Well, thank you. The same goes for you, by the way.” He wrinkled his nose. “As long as you’ve showered first.”

“I might take you up on that,” Phillip said, a note of eagerness clear in his voice. “Let’s watch your war thing then.”

Thomas was just starting to fall into a contented doze when Phillip shifted, fingers squeezing into Thomas’ shoulder. Evidently, he still had questions. 

“So, I’m better than him then?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Your ex. How do I stack up?” 

Thomas snorted, the memory of Arthur’s condescending smile still fresh in his mind. “There's not even a comparison, Phillip. You're far better, in every possible respect.” He lowered his voice, teasing slightly: “Or are you only interested in the sex part?” 

“No, no, I’m interested in all of it.” Phillip grinned and waggled his eyebrows “But I don’t mind you telling me about the sex part.”

“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid,” Thomas said. “The man wouldn’t even let me finger him; he didn’t believe in switching things up.”

Phillip pursed his lips and gave his head a small shake,. “The guy’s missing out. I know what we're doing next time, then.” He paused for a moment. “You still okay with there being a next time?” 

Thomas smiled, settling his head on Phillip's shoulder and nestling into the warmth of his body. “You know, I think I'd like that.” 

“Good.” Phillip gave Thomas’ forehead a small kiss. “Because I could get used to this.”


	5. The Chance for Something More

Warmth surrounded Thomas, soft and fuzzy. He was floating in a cloud of contentment, slowly rising from his dreams to find his hair plastered to his cheek and a puddle of drool on his pillow. He stretched out, feeling his spine pop and pushed Arthur’s fluffy arm from around him. A glance in the mirror showed that the other side of his hair was in total disarray, ginger now clearly visible where it stuck out from his head in spikes. Thomas smiled, running a hand through it. He was starting to like what he saw in his reflection. 

By the time the alarm went off Thomas was already up and dressed, hair tamed back into its usual neat parting. He smiled at his reflection again, noting that the circles around his eyes were starting to lighten. And no wonder; in the three nights since his liaison with Phillip, he'd slept more soundly than he had in years. 

Mentally checking off a list in his head, Thomas moved through his morning routine: check the news, eat breakfast, brush teeth, leave. 

To his absolute delight, when Thomas did leave twenty minutes later, he found Phillip waiting at the lift. He was dressed up, hair pushed away from his face, and looking absolutely impeccable in a dark suit. 

“Wow,” Thomas breathed, feeling his mouth go dry. His gaze tracked up the long length of Phillip's legs, and he admired the way the trousers seemed to hug his hips. “Good morning, indeed.” 

Phillip turned, his face lighting in a smile. “Like what you see there, Thomas?” he said, a wicked sparkle in his eye. “Business shit to do today. Gotta look the part.” 

“If ‘the part’ means bloody gorgeous, then I'd say yes, you've definitely achieved that,” Thomas said, running a finger down Phillip's tie, straightening it ever so slightly. He met Phillip’s eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe we should _do something_ later?” 

“Well,” Phillip said, his hand coming to rest on Thomas’ shoulder, “I should be done by five. Wanna hook up then?” 

Thomas frowned. “I have a marketing meeting, and if I don't go, the department will have to rely on Bannerman’s notes—if he even shows up. How is half-past six?”

Phillip shook his head, the action causing his hair to fall into his face. “Business dinner, then I gotta Skype my brother and update him.” Phillip’s face fell. “I tell you, man, we'd better get a contract soon or I'm never gonna hear the end of it.”

Thomas patted at Phillip’s arm, unsure of what to say. They were silent as the lift arrived, Phillip’s hand coming to rest at the small of Thomas’ back as he opened the grate for him. It was empty, as usual, and Thomas felt heat rise to his cheeks as Phillip immediately slipped his hand down to cup his ass.

Phillip’s voice was low and husky, sending a shiver through him as he murmured in his ear: “I'm gonna be all pent up after that call. What do you say? Wanna be my little midnight snack?” 

Thomas sighed. “Tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid I'm working early tomorrow.” He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from Phillip’s face. They stood almost chest-to-chest now, barely an inch between them. Thomas could feel the heat of Phillip's body; he could taste his breath on his lips. 

“Tomorrow night?” Thomas asked, gaze flicking down to Phillip’s lower lip. He unconsciously wet his own, but forced himself to step back—just a little. 

Phillip swallowed. “Tomorrow night,” he said, sounding breathless. He pulled away, pressing the button for the ground floor before leaning against the side of the lift, gaze not leaving Thomas’ lips for a second. Thomas stood next to him, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He glanced over, meeting Phillip’s eyes and feeling a burst of heat rush through him. 

They moved in the same instant, lips coming together in a rough kiss, hands roving everywhere. Thomas felt himself pushed against the wall of the lift and groaned, grabbing for Phillip’s hair. Rough fingers pushed up beneath the back of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, the touch making Thomas shudder with want. He ran his hands down Phillip’s neck and over his chest, searching for some way to gain access to the layers of his clothes. 

Phillip’s mouth tasted like coffee, rich and dark as Thomas curled his tongue. He pressed as close as possible to grind his half-hard cock against Phillip's thigh. 

“We really don't have time to do this right now,” Thomas panted, glancing at the floors passing by. 

“I know, I know,” Phillip said, reluctantly pulling away. “We can wait until tomorrow, definitely.” He pushed his ruffled hair from his face and straightened his clothes, watching with wry amusement as Thomas hastily tucked his shirt back in. “We’ll call that an appetiser.”

Thomas nodded, trying to compose himself. He could wait until tomorrow; he didn’t need Phillip _that_ badly. He breathed deep. “Well, you’ve certainly given me something to think about during work today.”

“Yeah?” Phillip said. “I kinda like that.” A smug smile curled up his cheeks. Phillip’s breathing had evened out already, and Thomas felt a twinge of annoyance at just how unaffected he seemed; it really wasn’t fair that he was the only one reduced to a flushed mess.

The lift shuddered to a halt and Thomas wrenched the grate open, heading for the front door with Phillip by his side. “Well, I’m headed this way,” Phillip said, pointing in the opposite direction of Thomas’ usual route. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes, you will,” Thomas said, fastening the front buttons on his coat. He spoke out as Phillip tuned to leave: “Oh, by the way, Phillip, there’s just one more thing…”

He took a single step closer, grabbing Phillip by his slightly overlarge ears and pulling him in, kissing him thoroughly, swirling his tongue around to catch that last dark hint of coffee. He turned away, smiling to himself, not daring to look back at the expression on Phillip’s face; he hoped it was surprise.

Possibilities for the next night’s activities crowded the forefront of Thomas’ mind for his entire work day, distracting him. As a result, his notes during the marketing meeting were almost as bad as Bannerman’s—although still more useful, on the whole. It was a slight irritation. Thomas didn’t like losing his focus, even if his mind was in a far more pleasant place. That was no way to earn a promotion.

That night, he moved Arthur from the bed to join him on the couch, enjoying the warmth at his side as he did his best to turn his haphazard notes into a solid marketing strategy. He left Arthur sitting there when he finally turned in for the night, having to satisfy himself with his hand when the thoughts of Phillip started to invade his brain once more.

The next day dawned cold and bright, the first hints of frost clinging to the early morning air as Thomas walked to work. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face, anticipation warming him from the inside out.

His good mood seemed to suffuse the entire department, and it showed, with sales figures breaking target before the middle of the afternoon. Thomas caught the General Manager’s eyes on her rounds, mood brightening even further when she smiled, giving him an approving nod.

The only thing that quashed his happiness was, predictably, Bannerman, who sidled up to Thomas half an hour before his scheduled finishing time, a grating whine in his voice.

“Listen McG, I'm not feeling great. You okay to cover the last few hours?” He was already heading towards the door. He clapped a hand on Thomas’ shoulder as he passed, making him shudder. “Cheers, mate.” 

“Actually,” Thomas said, turning on his heel and rushing to catch up, “I have plans tonight. I need to finish on time. Are you sure there's no way you can stay?” 

“Can't. Love to, but can't.” Bannerman was already reaching for his phone, talking over Thomas as he tried to reason with him. “Hey, yeah, it's me. Heading out now. Nah, it's fine, my mate Tommy is going to cover for me. He loves it here.”

Thomas stood, frustration prickling through every nerve. By all rights he should leave too—it was his finishing time—but the department, his promotion… Thomas sighed; at least he had an outlet for his frustrations—if Phillip could forgive him for being late, that is. 

He rushed home a few hours later, swearing. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, tapping his fingers against the wall of the lift as it rose, inexorably slow. 

He didn't even bother going to his own apartment to change. He simply strode to Phillip's door and knocked, hoping he hadn't fucked things up. 

No answer. 

Thomas gritted his teeth and knocked again. “Phillip? I'm sorry. I know I'm late. I got held up at work. I can make it up to you.”

Nothing but silence on the other side of the door. 

Thomas clenched his fists and shuffled back towards his own door. That was that, he supposed. His thoughts turned to the bottle of wine in his fridge; it seemed as good a distraction as any. 

As he turned the key in his door he heard a scrambling sound on the stairs and a muttered, “Shit, shit, shit” before the door to the stairwell burst open and Phillip appeared, completely dishevelled. He stopped short as he spotted Thomas and straightened up, blotches of red visible on his cheeks.

“Uh, hey. How’s it going?” Phillip’s hand came up, flattening his hair. “Did you just get home?” 

Thomas nodded. “Actually, yes. Not the best day at work. Not the worst, but not the best. You?” 

“Fucking awful,” Phillip said, his shoulders slumping. He met Thomas’ eyes and bit his lip. “Look, I know we made plans, but I'm not really feeling it tonight. Can we maybe hook up some other time?” 

Thomas gave Phillip a once over, taking in his mussed appearance, his clenched fists, and the deep lines around his eyes. He felt a spot of warmth in his belly, needing to reach out and help somehow. “That's fine,” he said. “Why don't you just come over for a drink? I've got a very nice bottle of wine I've been saving.” 

Phillip was staring, an odd half-smile on his lips, the tension in his shoulders seeming to ease. 

Thomas spread his hands wide, feeling the need to explain. “Not that I'm trying to get you drunk or anything. I just thought it would be nice to unwind, share our terrible work stories. No funny business.”

Phillip let out a breath of laughter. “Okay, then. You’re on.” He shook his hair back from his face, smile growing wider by the second. “Wanna order some food, too?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ve got some menus inside. After you.” Door unlocked, Thomas guided Phillip inside before heading to the kitchen to grab some glasses. “Make yourself at home,” he shouted over his shoulder. “I’ll get the wine and then I just need to get changed.”

“Sure thing,” Phillip said from the living room. Thomas froze, remembering too late that he’d left Arthur sitting on his couch. He grabbed the glasses and scrambled through to find Phillip, his shoes already kicked off, sprawled on the couch with his head on Arthur’s lap. He grinned at Thomas when he entered the room. “So who’s this? Do I need to be jealous?”

Thomas could feel heat rising in his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “That’s, um...Ar—Arnold, yes, Arnold. Sorry, it’s really not what you’d expect to find in a grown man’s apartment, is it?”

Phillip hauled himself up, one eyebrow raised. “Well, no, but I’m not surprised. You definitely seem like the type to take your work home with you.” He pursed his lips and slumped back onto the bear. “It sure beats coming home to angry emails.”

Thomas sat the wine and glasses on the table and pressed a hand to Phillip’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Phillip said, opening the wine and pouring out two generous glasses. He took one sip and sat back upright. “See, the thing is, my brother expects me to go out and shmooze with the clients. Now, I may have gotten a little carried away once or twice—ended up taking people on dates when I should have been talking contracts, and yeah, sure, I can understand those people not wanting to do business with me—but the moment I start taking it seriously, then apparently I’m ‘not trying hard enough’.” Phillip took another drink and gave Thomas a wry smile. “I think my brother thinks I’m a whore.”

“Oh, surely not,” Thomas said. “Did he actually say that?”

“I dunno, man. He just keeps going on about doing _whatever it takes_ to expand the business and prove I’m not a total fuck-up for coming over here in the first place.” Phillip sighed. “What do you think?”

Thomas swirled the wine in his glass, taking a sip. “Well, for starters, I’m glad you came over here. It has certainly made things more interesting.” He placed a tentative hand on Phillip’s knee. “And second of all, these things take time. You're still doing your job, and, personally, I can't imagine anyone not being charmed by you.”

Nudging Thomas with his elbow, Phillip smiled. “Don't get mushy on me, Thomas. You're gonna make me blush.” He leaned back on the couch, the lines of tension in his body starting to lessen. “We should order food. I'm starving.”

A bottle of wine, two orders of ginger noodles, and a plate of wontons later, Thomas was in full swing. 

“—and he just _left!_ Never mind that I've been working late every night for two weeks; no, he just swans off.” Thomas downed the last of the wine in his glass and leaned his head back with a sigh. “And the worst part is, I did stay.”

Phillip’s hand was on his shoulder and he gave a soft smile. “At least you like your job. I'm starting to think I'm doing this just to prove I'm not the family fuck-up.” He curled into Thomas’ side, and Thomas slid his arm around, holding Phillip close. 

“You should do what makes you happiest,” Thomas said. “Forget what anyone else thinks.” 

They sat in silence a few minutes longer and Thomas sighed in contentment, enjoying the warmth of Phillip's arms around him. Right now, speaking of things that made him happy, he couldn't think of anything better. 

“Hey,” Phillip said, raising his head from Thomas’ shoulder, nudging at his neck with his nose. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

Okay, maybe that was better. “I can do that.”

“But do you _want_ to?” 

Thomas stroked down Phillip's cheek, heart clenching at the earnest look in his eyes. “Of course, I do. You wouldn't be here if I didn't want you.”

Phillip didn’t reply except to kiss Thomas, grabbing his collar to pull him close.

Despite his eagerness, the kiss was slow and soft, Phillip’s lips gently parting as Thomas dipped his tongue in to taste. The faintest hint of wine still clung to his lips and Thomas drank it in, already intoxicated by every touch of Phillip's hands against his body. He gave Phillip's shoulder a small shove, gently but firmly pushing him down to lie on the couch. Phillip immediately parted his knees, allowing Thomas to settle between them. He arched up, already hard, and Thomas bit back a moan, not wanting to press too far. 

“Is this okay?” Thomas said. “I know you said you weren't quite feeling it tonight. We can just kiss if you want.” 

Phillip reached up with one hand, running it through Thomas’ hair before pulling him in for another kiss. His other hand he slid down the back of Thomas’ trousers, squeezing a handful of his ass and pulling their hips flush. 

“I might have changed my mind,” Phillip said when they finally parted, flushed and breathless. “Do you wanna do me?” 

“Oh, God, yes,” Thomas groaned, pressing his face to Phillip's neck, kissing and biting, nipping just beneath the earlobe to hear Phillip hiss and arch against him. “I bet you look wonderful taking it.”

Phillip let out a noise that might have been a whimper, his fingers squeezing tight on Thomas’ ass. He bucked up to grind against Thomas before reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

Thomas took hold of Phillip’s wrists, pulling them away. He wet his lips and smiled slowly. “I want to do this properly, in an actual bed.” He circled his hips once then pulled away leaving Phillip sprawled on the couch, lips kiss-swollen, erection straining beneath his trousers. Thomas gazed over him in admiration. “I want to take my time with you.”

Phillip groaned, pushing his hair from his face with both hands. He peered up at Thomas from the couch, teeth scraping over his lower lip. “How do you want me?” 

“Now there’s a question,” Thomas said. “In the bedroom, for starters.” He sat back and Phillip wiggled out from underneath him, practically dashing to Thomas’ bedroom. 

Thomas followed, laughter bubbling from his lips. Phillip’s enthusiasm was a definite boost for his self-esteem. He stopped short as he entered the bedroom, blinking and letting out a confused “Wha—” 

Phillip lay sprawled on the bed, propped up on one elbow, his clothes in a pile on the floor. His hand was loosely wrapped about his cock, slowly stroking, his gaze firmly fixed on Thomas. Thomas raised his eyebrows in bemusement. 

“How are you already naked?” he said, somewhat awed at Phillip’s apparent ability to undress in five seconds flat. He shook his head, tutting. “You are an impatient thing. I thought _I_ might undress you.”

“Well, I can put the clothes back on if you like,” Phillip said with a wide smile. He shivered as Thomas approached the bed, still fully dressed. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Thomas silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips. 

He gently traced the outline of Phillip's mouth, brushing over the soft curve of his lower lip with two fingertips. Taking the hint, Phillip drew Thomas’ fingers into his mouth, gently sucking, swirling his tongue around and between them, never breaking eye contact as he did. 

Thomas groaned, warmth pooling in his stomach. He was fully hard now, sliding his fingers in and out of Phillip's mouth, unable to look away. With his free hand he traced circles around one nipple, gently squeezing at the soft layer of skin that covered the hard pectoral muscle. 

Finally pulling his fingers from Phillip's mouth, Thomas leaned down to kiss him, reaching down as he did so. His fingers left a spit-damp trail down Phillip's stomach and Phillip groaned into Thomas’ mouth, legs swiftly parting. 

Deliberately skimming over the hot length of Phillip's cock, Thomas slid his fingers lower, barely brushing over his hole. He smiled into the kiss when Phillip whined, trying to buck onto his fingers as he pulled away. 

“I always knew you were a fucking tease,” Phillip panted as Thomas started to undress himself at an almost leisurely pace.

“Please, I'm just taking my time,” Thomas said, deliberately pausing his actions, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. “I mean, look at you.” He let his gaze linger over Phillip’s chest, flushed and heaving. “I want to touch every inch of you.”

“Yeah? Well, you can start with these inches right here.” Phillip took his cock in hand once more, squeezing along the length of it. “I wanna get fucked, come on.” 

Thomas slipped off his underwear, letting it fall to the floor, and crawled onto the bed. He kissed his way from Phillip’s navel towards his lips, relishing the heat of his skin, drinking in every gasp, every moan that Phillip let out. Phillip’s fingers tangled in his hair, urging him upwards, and Thomas smirked against his chest, taking a moment to run his tongue across a cluster of moles, laving at them.

When he finally reached Phillip’s mouth, Thomas paused, pulling back with a smile. “Hello there,” he breathed, and was hauled into a kiss. 

Phillip’s tongue swirled around Thomas’ own in a way that made Thomas’ toes curl, coaxing and teasing, making him groan. He pressed himself along the length of Phillip’s body, rocking his hips to brush their cocks together. Phillip hissed in a breath, spreading his legs to let Thomas kneel between them.

Thomas reached for the bedside drawer, pulling out lube and a condom. The condom he dropped on the pillow next to Phillip’s head, watching as his teeth scraped over his lower lip. He gazed up at Thomas, shifting a little, tilting his hips upwards, his knees spreading wider in invitation.

“God, yes, I'm ready. Give it to me.”

Slicking his fingers, Thomas slipped them down the crease of Phillip’s ass, sliding them back and forth, hearing Phillip catch a breath every time he passed across the pucker of his hole. 

“C’mon,” Phillip groaned. “Are you trying to make me beg?” 

“Not at all,” Thomas said, taking his free hand from Phillip's thigh to cup his balls, gently rolling them in his palm. “I'm just taking my time.” He circled Phillip's hole once more and pushed two fingers in, arousal spiking as Phillip moaned. “Is that better?” 

Phillip circled his hips, trying to push back onto Thomas’ fingers. “It's a start,” he said breathlessly. 

Thomas smiled, slipping his hand up Phillip's cock in a few gentle strokes, curling the fingers of his other hand as he did so. Phillip's chest was starting to glisten with sweat, his hips working in little half thrusts as he searched out the friction of Thomas’ hand. He could feel the slight hardness of Phillip's prostate beneath his fingertips and circled it a few times, gently pressing. 

“Oh, God, please, Thomas. Please!” Phillip sat up on his elbows and Thomas caught a glimpse of his face: flushed and red, curls of hair plastered to his forehead. 

Thomas circled his fingers a few more times for good measure, stroking over Phillip's prostate and feeling a thrill with every catch of breath the action produced. He lowered his head, lapping the precome starting to bead at the tip of Phillip's cock. It twitched in his hand and Phillip arched up again, his fingers digging into Thomas’ shoulder. “ _Thomas_ ,” he groaned. “Do me, please.”

“Well,” Thomas said, “since you asked nicely.” He ran his tongue up Phillip's cock from root to tip, kneeling between his spread legs. “Pass me the condom, please.” 

Phillip sat up, tearing the packet open with his teeth. He hurriedly rolled the condom onto Thomas’ cock before pulling him in for a kiss, holding him in place with both hands.

Phillip kissed as if he were drowning and Thomas was his only source of air. His fingers scraped along Thomas’ scalp and down his neck, making him shiver, his self control barely kept in check. Phillip pulled back, moving to turn on his front, presenting his ass to Thomas. 

Reaching out, Thomas trailed a hand down Phillip's back, feeling the muscles of his shoulders tighten with anticipation. He squeezed at Phillip's ass for a second, enjoying the view. It wasn't what he wanted though. 

“Could you maybe turn back over?” Thomas asked, uncertain. “I want to see your face.” 

Phillip hesitated for a moment before turning, grabbing a pillow and shoving it beneath his hips. His cheeks were pink—the same light flush that spread across his chest—and Thomas felt his breath catch. He took his cock in hand, spreading a little more lube for good measure, and lined himself up. 

Phillip moaned at the first push, hitching his legs around Thomas’ hips and pulling him close, until he was buried to the hilt. He reached for Thomas’ face, urging him down for another kiss—which Thomas gladly returned. 

Pulling out almost to the tip, Thomas gave a slow thrust, moaning into Phillip's mouth. He was hot and tight, warm and wet, fingers clenching on Thomas’ shoulder with every circle of his hips. 

Thomas set a slow and steady pace, watching Phillip's reactions—far more interested in that than chasing his own pleasure. He was shivering, clenching around Thomas, gasping in air with every slow thrust. 

“Thomas…” 

Phillip ran his fingers down Thomas’ arm, grasping his wrist in a loose circle as he gasped out his name once more. His legs were locked around Thomas’ waist, ankles crossed as they gently rocked together, a thin sheen of sweat starting to rise on their skin. 

Thomas pulled back, breathless, arousal cresting with every sound that slipped past Phillip's lips. Their eyes met and Thomas groaned, pulling his wrist from Phillip's grasp. He heard Phillip’s breath hitch for the briefest of seconds before he threaded their fingers together, pressing Phillip’s hand back into the mattress, firmly clasped in his own. He felt Phillip clench around him and surged down to kiss him once more.

Speeding his movements, Thomas felt Phillip reach between them to take his cock in his free hand, stroking in time with every thrust, gasps morphing into full blown throaty moans. He moved rocking his hips forwards, meeting Thomas’ pace, fingers gripping tight on his hand. 

Thomas could feel his peak approaching, building at the base of his cock, and steadfastly ignored it. He was too caught up, watching every slight change in Phillip's expression, needing to see him fall apart. Sweat clung to his skin, damp between his and Phillip's joined hands—something that would normally disgust him—but he didn't dare let go, even for an instant. 

Thomas’ heart was hammering in his chest, his moans growing louder alongside Phillip's. He glanced down, watching the head of Phillip's cock appear and disappear in the circle of his fist as he roughly jerked himself. 

“God, yes, just like that,” Thomas said, his voice rough. “I knew you'd look amazing like this.” Phillip moaned, his entire body tensing, cock spurting over his bare stomach. “Oh, fuck,” Thomas murmured, keeping his pace, fucking Phillip through his orgasm. “That's it. Let me see you come for me.” 

Phillip let out a wordless cry, finally pulling their hands apart to drag his fingers down Thomas’ back, nails scraping across sweat-slick skin. Thomas hissed in a breath, pulling out and hearing Phillip whine. He tore the condom off, taking himself in hand. A couple of strokes was all it took to have him moaning out his release, the wet stripes of his come mingling with Phillip's and pooling in his navel. 

Thomas took a shuddering breath, and pushed his sweaty hair from his face, a slow satisfied smile on his lips, mirrored almost exactly by Phillip. His arms gave out and he slumped onto Phillip’s chest, nuzzling against his collarbones.

“Wow,” Phillip said, sagging onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling, his hands tracing idle circles on Thomas’ back.

They lay in silence, breath slowly returning to normal until, eventually, Thomas rolled to one side and grabbed tissues from the bedside table to wordlessly mop up the mess between their stomachs. He felt slow and sated, content in every way, and leaned in to kiss Phillip softly.

“I don’t think I can move,” Phillip said when Thomas finally pulled away.

Thomas let out a soft laugh. “Why would you want to move? Let’s just lie here for a while.” He tugged the blanket up from the bottom of the bed, covering them both before resting his head on Phillip’s chest once more.

The steady beat of Phillip’s heart drowned out Thomas’ thoughts. He could only feel the rise and fall of Phillip’s chest, the heat of his skin, the slide of sweat, and the solid certainty that there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Thomas closed his eyes, his arms wrapped around Phillip completely, consciousness already starting to drift away.

He awoke to the shifting of the mattress beside him, unsure just how much time had passed. It was night and the solid outline of Phillip’s body was silhouetted against the faint glow of street lights several floors below. He had paused, looking from the bed to the door and back again, obviously wondering if he should leave.

Thomas felt a clench in his gut and moved, grasping Phillip’s wrist in one hand to gently tug him back. He needed to say something, to tell Phillip somehow that he wanted more: more than the occasional hook-ups and infrequent conversations in the lift. He wanted something meaningful, something that would last.

All he managed was a single word: “Stay.”

It hung in the air, silence stretched cobweb-thin between them. Thomas could feel his heart starting to speed, glad for the darkness that hid the undisguised want on his face. He breathed, breaking the silence once more.

“Please.”

Phillip slowly turned, taking Thomas’ hand in his own and sitting back on the edge of the bed. His voice hitched slightly as he asked, “Are you sure about this?” 

“I think I am.” 

“Okay.” The mattress dipped as Phillip slid beneath the sheets. He moved close and Thomas turned to kiss him, missing completely in the dark and getting a mouthful of moustache. With a low laugh, Phillip nudged Thomas’ nose with his own, their lips meeting this time. 

This kiss was slow and languid, Phillip rubbing circles on Thomas’ bare hip and giving his ass a soft squeeze. “You know,” he said, “I would totally be up for another round, but I'm pretty sure you've got work tomorrow.”

Thomas nodded in affirmation, stretching out, revelling in the feel of Phillip's body—warm and bare—pressed the length of him. “Unfortunately so.” He reached up to circle Phillip's pectoral muscle, giving his nipple a little squeeze as he did. “I can think of far better things to be doing.”

“Me, for example,” Phillip said, settling back into Thomas’ bed, slotting against his side as if he belonged there. “You ever get a day off from that place? Maybe we could go to the park, throw shit at ducks or something?”

“I really do hope you mean bread.”

Phillip curled his arm around Thomas’ waist, leaning in close to press their foreheads together. He yawned widely, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder. “Whatever you want, babe.”

Thomas smiled to himself, stroking Phillip’s hair from his face. He would call work first thing in the morning. For once he didn't care at all about how the toy department fared.

He deserved a day off.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [here](http://moonwalkingcrab.tumblr.com/), feel free to come say hi.


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